


Therapy Journal

by jordangirl



Category: Crossing Jordan
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 63,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordangirl/pseuds/jordangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a lot of crap piles in on her, Jordan decides to really try in therapy and is requested to keep a kind of journal chronicling all the significant relationships in her life. This is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude to a Journal

Ok, this should be…interesting. I’m seeing Stiles. No, not THAT way (much as his twisted little mind would love that). I don’t need to be seeing anybody in THAT way right now.

After the crash… After the crash it seemed like everything changed. Garret barely survived for one thing. I told Woody I loved him for another. And let’s face it, all of us who work in the morgue have seen more than enough death, have had more than enough of these kind of experiences… It’s going to change you. Change us.

Change me.

Not that change is a bad thing, but… But it can be confusing. It can be scary. It can lead to wonderful, amazing things, but you have to walk through – and work through – some pretty deep shit before you come out the other side. (Hey, look at me sounding all well-adjusted and stuff. Maybe all those years of therapy actually had something sink in after all.)

Only sometimes you don’t know that there’s something better on the other side of the shit. You might think there is. You may have heard there is. Hell, you may even want to believe there is. But the bottom line is, you just don’t know.

All the shit from the mountain… So much was revealed – things that were said AND things that weren’t. And yeah, ultimately all the shit – or at least most of the shit – was, no is good, it’s still scary. And…

It’s no secret that when shit gets scary, I run. Always. Even when I was little. Though that running wasn’t really to anywhere physical. It was my nice little safe world I created where everything was ok. Yes, Jordan Cavanaugh has an imagination, ok? Sometimes… Sometimes it was just safer for me to go somewhere else, somewhere safe. Sometimes my imaginary world was safer than home.

And sometimes it was scarier.

But… Yeah… Back to the mountain and the aftermath of the crash.

Things came out up there. We learned about each other. We had to depend on each other for our very survival. When you’re in a situation like that, when you really think you might die up there with no one knowing where you are… Somehow when it’s like that… You… I… I have to, or I don’t HAVE to, but me being me… 

I hold it together during the crisis, but after the fact, when we’re all safe…

I freak out and start to question things.

Like, the interrelationship of all of us in the morgue for one. I mean, I don’t think it’s a secret that all of us in the morgue have this almost kind of twisted close, maybe even symbiotic relationship with each other. Is it overly so? I mean, are we codependent? Or are we just really a non-biological family? If one of us had… If one of us had died would we have fallen apart? Or come back stronger? 

And then there’s all the shit Garret said. It wasn’t exactly “I love you” in a romantic way. I mean, it wasn’t “I love you” at all in those exact words. But it… It felt like it was more than the intent of “I love you” in a brother/sister kind of way. And really, what the hell am I supposed to do with that speech he gave me. Something like I’m the glue – or the rock – or what holds the place together? Oh no, wait. It’s that because I always push the boundaries I make them all better at what they do. And if I had to be in charge I’d have to follow the rules and stay reigned in, and the morgue would lose the driving force that apparently he’s convinced himself I am. And that’s why he wouldn’t put me in charge? (After if I’m not mistaken he’s more than hinted he was essentially grooming me for the job as a matter of fact. Not that I’d want it. WAY too many rules I’d have to follow and asses I’d have to kiss for that.) I mean, can we say backhanded compliment dude? But when I realized how bad he’d been hurt… How serious it was… I was terrified I was going to have to see him die right in front of me. And there I was helpless to do anything. Again…

But I’m getting into the shit I should be saving for later in this thing. I should do more of this introduction.

And then there’s the other shit that happened up there. Like, yes, I told Woody I loved him. Love him? I don’t… See, that’s where the confusion is coming in there. We held hands during the crash. We kissed. Of course that was after he and Bug had tried to make contact with the outside world and though they had failed because the power on the jimmied up thing failed so quickly and before they thought any kind of signal had gotten through. And before we heard the engines of the search party and rescue. It – the me saying it and us kissing thing – it happened when we thought we were going to die up there on that mountain only to be found god knows when. And dying of hypothermia is NOT a fun way to go let me tell you. Was it real, honest, something that really would survive if we did? Or was it just reacting to the situation? 

And then we got down, back to Boston, back to the safety of our citified lives, to the relative safety of our jobs (shut up Howard… the morgue can be a dangerous place, even without me taking my tangents). And before anything could even happen, before we could even have one date, he looked at me and asked what it meant – if it meant anything at all to me. (Ok, what is it with guys always wanting me to either say something DID mean something or DID NOT mean something? And why do I always have such a hard time answering those questions?)   
In other words, did I really mean it, or was it a knee-jerk reaction to impending death?

Never mind that HE was also facing that impending death. And probably reacting to a hell of a lot more shit that he’s tamped down. (Looking at you Devan. And at you Lu. Oh, and you former spleen of Woody’s – you sort of play into this shit as well. Well, looking back in your general directions since… Never mind… Getting ahead of myself again.) Of course he refuses to look at why HE responded the way he did. It’s all about Jordan – about what I really meant. And would I really feel that way and have said those things if we had been sitting somewhere nice and safe and warm in Boston.

And so… Yeah. Like I said. A shit-ton of questions got all stirred up.

And as scary as trying to puzzle through and face everything that came up out there is, I know I need to do it. I’ve gotten comfortable with the idea that I’m not my mother; that I’m not going to die… Right now. I’m a medical examiner. I know we’re all going to die. So I’m probably going to be around for a while (hell, if the shit that’s happened to me so far hasn’t killed me, I figure someone up there has some sick determination that I am not going anywhere any time soon). So I… Well, I mean…

For once in my life I don’t want to just run. I want to try and figure out this weird as shit puzzle that is my life.

And so… As much as part of me thinks finding a different therapist might be the prudent thing to do, the bottom line is Stiles has helped me make some progress. He’s the one who finally managed to break through and help me see that I am not my mother and her fate is not my fate. So as much as I hate to admit it, the weird little guy helps me. And I guess it’s probably better to stick with him – he knows most of my tricks and can call me on them. And as much as I hate to admit it, he sometimes helps me.

Which is why I’m writing out this journal thing.

So my assignment – at least to start – is to look at all the people (and maybe events, but I’m supposed to start with people) who have been in my life and who have played some kind of significant role in making me who I am. Sort of like… Sort of like a mosaic of Jordan I guess. And written seems to be the better way to do it – Howard says to write and bring it to my sessions. I guess I’ll either read it out loud or use it as talking points or something. I don’t know. That part wasn’t really clear. Just the “write this down and bring it to each session” part. So…  
I should probably start with making a list. I reserve the right to combine people if necessary – like if they ONLY apply in terms of a relationship with someone else – and I guess I reserve the right to expand in case someone I think only applies with someone else turns out to be more significant than I thought. Right?

Ok. So. 

The People Mosaic of Jordan Cavanaugh – version 1.0

Mom (Emily Catherine Lowell Cavanaugh)  
Dad (Maximillian Christopher Cavanaugh)  
James… Horton  
Grandmother (Elizabeth Brown Lowell)  
Kim Watkins  
Paul  
Lois Carver  
Linda Ferris (and by extension Michael Trotter – or maybe it should be the other way around there. I’m not positive. We’ll see.)  
Eddie Winslow  
Dr. Elliot McCafferty, M.D.  
Garret Macy  
Tom Crane  
Hector Chirullo  
Nigel Townsend  
Tyler  
Lily Lebowski  
Special Agent Drew Haley  
Woodrow “Woody” Hoyt  
Elaine Duchamps  
John Roberts  
Devan Maguire  
J.D. Pollack  
Tallulah “Lu” Simmons  
Kayla Dawson  
Kate Switzer

So there it is. My “mosaic of me” list. I have no clue what order I’m supposed to write these in. Do I start chronologically? By perceived order or importance – or complexity or the relationship? Or do I…?

Oh hell, I guess I should just pick someone and start. Avoiding or procrastinating isn’t going to help at all, right?

Ok.

I guess I’ll start with…


	2. *~*~*~*~*

Some quotes I found that seemed like they might be appropriate… (You never said I couldn’t put quotes in here!!)

“One thing I’ve learned through all the ups and downs is that if you’re doing things right, then you have a core group of people. Not just a core group like your homies or your buddies, but a group of people that has a good influence on you, who you respect and admire, and you know that they’re on your side, you’re doing something right.” – Hope Solo

“Keep on dancing with life, each individual you meet is absolutely unique and every encounter reveals a new side to you. Allow other people to affect you. What we need is actually a deep intimacy with life and a myriad of astonishing moments.” – Kemmy Nola

And then these two that don’t really deal with other people…but seem oddly applicable to me and this little exercise you’re making me do, Stiles.

“A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing.” – George Bernard Shaw

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.” – Marie Curie

Now I guess I’ll start this thing for real. I don’t want to, but you insist that it will help. I don’t know… We’ll see.


	3. Dad - aka Maximillian Chistopher Cavanaugh - aka Max

I guess really I could start with anyone, but given that Dad has known me longer than anyone on the list (well, I guess technically my grandmother has known me about as long, but then again there was that whole period where we didn’t communicate because I thought we hated her – I’ll explain more of that later, don’t worry), so he’s probably the easiest one to start with.

When I was little, like really little, our relationship was I guess your typical father daughter relationship. As in I was pretty much Daddy’s little girl from the moment I was born. I was looking through old pictures the other day and found one I guess Mom took of him holding me when we got home from the hospital – he wasn’t allowed to hold me in there for whatever weird reason they had. (Mom and I were there like five days too, which is unheard of today unless there are major complications! My how times change!) I look so tiny next to him – his hands look like big paws. I remember him saying that he was so afraid he was going to break me even though he could pretty much hold me in one hand. Not quite – I mean, I wasn’t a preemie or anything, I was a little over 6 pounds… and he was (well, still is, but you know what I’m saying) big.

Right from the start, we were pretty much inseparable. People would say stuff like “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” and I guess maybe I did, but it just seemed normal to me. 

Dad was a cop.

Dad was a protector.

Before I was five, things seemed to be “normal” – or at least like other families. Mom stayed home. Dad worked. I pretty much stayed home with Mom. Most of the time things were ok – or I thought they were. Now? Well, now I know better. Now I know it wasn’t “normal” for mothers to cry all the time – to be “tired” or “sad”. It wasn’t normal for a little girl to pretty much sit quietly coloring or playing with quiet toys so she wouldn’t bother her mother or make her “more sadder” as I used to say. And yeah, kids would go and see their dads at work, but they didn’t take bags of activities to sit for hours. And definitely not to a police station.

But that’s what normal was for me. And truth be told, I loved it. There was always something exciting going on – well, usually anyway. And the other guys – all the cops were guys when I was little, at least the ones I saw – pretty much treated me like their own. I had more “uncles” than I knew what to do with! (Though NOT in the sense that cops too many times end up dealing with when “uncles” are involved. These were second dads that I called Uncle whatever.

Don’t get me wrong, there was always an undercurrent of worry in the house. You don’t grow up the child of a cop (or military person, or firefighter… or I guess really any job that has a level of inherent danger involved in it). I remember seeing Mom jump when the phone rang – or worse when there was a knock on the door – when Dad was working and we knew something was going down. Well, actually any time he was working now that I think about it. And then after… I was the one jumping and dreading the phone’s ring or the knock at the door (though really a lot of the time it was the person coming into his office or the break room – wherever I happened to be camped on that particular day).

I don’t mean to make it sound like it was all sadness and worry. There were moments of happiness and joy – and maybe even magic. 

Like the Christmas I was five. Mom was back from wherever she’d been (now I know it was Summit View, but at the time I didn’t… and that’s really for her part of this “story” so I’ll just leave it at “Mom was back from wherever she’d been”), and we actually seemed to be a normal family – we had a tree and more decorations than usual (we had a tree every year, but it wasn’t always decorated… and it wasn’t always UP until maybe Christmas Eve if we were lucky… if I was lucky). Mom and I had even baked cookies! I remember… Oh, sorry. This is Dad’s “chapter”. I’ll talk me and Mom and cookies in hers.

So… Christmas when I was five. We’d gone to midnight mass at Sacred Heart. It was the first year we went to MIDNIGHT mass – before that if Dad wasn’t working (and Mom wasn’t “tired” or “sad”) we’d go to an earlier service because I was only little. I guess Dad thought five was an ok age to stay up late enough for it. He thought wrong. I fell asleep before the sacrament stuff even started. They got me bundled up after it was over and we walked home – I guess they figured even south Boston was probably ok on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Well, ok, they walked. Dad carried me. It had started snowing during mass, and there was a light layer on the ground when they started home. When we got there, Dad carried me upstairs and woke me up to put on my snow clothes. He said Christmas snow was magic and we were going to play in it. 

I remember running down the stairs and jumping up and down in front of the door, knowing better than to run outside without him. Mom came into the hall from the kitchen – she had taken her coat off. I remember running to her and taking her hand and begging her to come with us. But she didn’t. Dad made a fire in the fireplace and then got his gloves and stuff back on and came to take my hand. I remember Mom came to the door to watch us, and I think I remember her laughing even. I kept calling for her to come out with us, but she just smiled and disappeared back inside. Dad distracted me for a little while, making snowballs and throwing them lightly at me, but it wasn’t long before I ran inside and made Mom come out.  
Right as she stepped onto the porch, Dad let a snowball fly and it hit her in the face. I looked up at her, terrified she was going to cry or worse go back inside (crying I was used to, it was normal… her leaving me standing alone… well, it wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t the norm even in our twisted little world), but she threw her head back and laughed. I don’t mean just a chuckle. I mean a full out laugh. Head thrown back and everything. I squealed and jumped from the porch into Dad’s arms, and he swing me around until Mom joined us. I held Mom’s right hand and Dad’s left hand, and we walked all around the neighborhood, looking at the lights twinkling through the snow.

When we got back to our yard, we made snow angels, then we just sat on the porch for a moment before heading inside. Dad helped me take my wet stuff off and bundled me into my Christmas pajamas, then wrapped me in a blanket and sat me in his chair in front of the fireplace while he changed. By the time he was back and had me cuddled in his lap on the sofa, Mom had changed and came in carrying a tray with chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate. She’d put candy canes in the mugs and topped them with whipped cream. Dad patted the couch next to him, and she sat down. 

The three of us just snuggled together, listening to the fire crackle and just being there with each other. Mom laid her head on Dad’s shoulder and she rubbed my back. I remember her singing “Away in a Manger” softly. I felt Dad kiss the top of my head as I drifted off to sleep. At some point he carried me up to my room and tucked me in – well, in the morning I woke up all tucked into my bed, so I assume he had done that. I remember waking up and wondering if it had all been a dream, but I looked out the window and our snow angels were still there!

Dad was right. Christmas snow IS magic! For that night, I really felt like we were whole, like the families we saw on TV.

Is it weird that I remember that one Christmas so specifically? I don’t know. I mean, come on Howard. You of all people know that my idea of what is “normal” is highly skewed from what the world thinks of as “normal”. I guess maybe it is? I mean since it was so different from the way life normally was it just… It sticks out, you know?

So anyway…

I guess I should jump to that day huh? I mean the rest of my childhood before age 10 was pretty much the same cycle – only going to school got added into the mix. And then a new time to worry – whenever the principal came to the classroom and asked to speak with Sister Whoever I Had That Year. Seems like we all learned early on that if that happened, someone was getting called out of class, and most of the time the result was never a good thing. And when I wasn’t in school, if Mom was “tired” or “sad” I would sometimes go to Kim’s house, but a lot of the time I was at the precinct.

That time is actually where I got my nickname “Fingers” – hanging at the precinct. Dad’s friends, my “uncles” would hide candy or crayons and paper or some kind of small toys in or around their desks. They’d pat me on the head and say they thought there might be something hanging around for me. I had to find it. And I got really good at doing it without them realizing I was. They used to joke that hopefully having a cop for a father would keep me “legal” because I would make far too good of a pickpocket or some other kind of troublemaker with my stealthy sneaking skills.

Oh. I guess I did kind of gloss over the whole thing I mentioned back there. About Mom going away. When I was five, but before Christmas. Yeah, most of it should go in her section, but Dad was there that day. He was watching something on TV. I had started watching with him, but I got bored and started looking for Mom. I heard her singing somewhere upstairs – “Someone To Watch Over Me”. She seemed to like that song. She sang it a lot anyway. So yeah. I heard her singing, and I wanted her to hold me, or at least to hug me. And I wanted to hug her – I always did whenever she sang that song. Because it meant she was “sad” or “tired”. I followed the voice up the stairs to the hall bathroom door. It was closed, but not all the way. I pushed it open and… The first thing I saw was the mirror. It was broken in what seemed like a million pieces. And then I saw her – she was sitting on the floor between the tub and the toilet, and there was blood on her hands. She had a piece of the broken mirror and was cutting something – her hair… or maybe her wrist… I’m not sure. I just know she was crying and there was blood.

I screamed. I couldn’t move, but I screamed.

Dad came running up the stairs. He took one look at the scene that had frozen me in place and immediately scooped me up, taking me to my bedroom. He told me to stay there, and he shut the door. I heard him on the phone to someone, asking whoever it was to come and get me – turns out it was his parents because Granddaddy showed up not too much later, and he took me to his and Grandmommy’s house. I stayed there for a couple of days. And when Dad came to get me and take me home, Mom was gone for a little while. No one ever told me anything other than she was sick and needed to get better.

So yeah… Like I was saying, after age 5, things were pretty much what they were until that day.

September 18, 1979.

Like I’ll ever forget that day.

Dad walked me to school that morning, pretty much like usual. I’d turned 10 the week before – I was in 4th grade though because my birthday was after the cut-off date. I’d had a fight with Mom (I’ll go into that a lot more later. In her “chapter”.) and couldn’t wait to have that bit of time just Dad and me. School started pretty normal – chapel and then classes. And then about 15 minutes before lunch I saw some activity outside our classroom. The principal was out in the hall with a cop – I didn’t know who it was at the time, but I recognized the uniform. And that time I knew they were there for me. No one else had a father who was a cop. And there was no reason for a cop to be there if it didn’t involve a cop.

I remember I was out of my seat even before they opened the door. Sister Agnes tried to make me sit down, but I ran to the coat closet and got my sweater but left my bag behind. Father Johnson – the principal – started to call my name, but I was already heading to the door with Officer Malden – one of Dad’s friends (or so I thought… but more on that later) – following right after me. He reached down and took my hand, trying to slow me down and keep me from running into the street or something, somehow making whatever had happened even worse. I tolerated him holding my hand until I could see the house. There were police cars everywhere with their lights flashing.

I started yelling “Mommy! Mommy!” and “Daddy!! Daddy!!” and pulled my hand out of Officer Malden’s and bolted into the house. I still expected to see Mom, probably on the sofa, definitely in tears. With one of the other cops next to her, comforting her, telling her Dad was doing a good thing. I’d been to a few vigils for people at the hospital and even a wake or two. I knew how it was supposed to go.

It wasn’t supposed to go the way it did.

Officer Malden and some of the other officers tried to stop me, to hold me back. But I pushed through and past them.

And then I saw her. Mom.

Mom was in the living room, yes. But she wasn’t sitting on the couch. And she wasn’t being comforted by a cop or two.

She was laying in the middle of the floor. Blood was all over her white shirt. She wasn’t moving. It was cold – the door and windows were open. And that day was cold for September. But the house was cold. Cold enough you could see everyone’s breath.

Except hers.

And the blood. God, there’s no blood like that anywhere else in the universe.

I remember screaming “Mommy!!” but she didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t breathe.

I spent my whole life thinking that when the principal came for me it would be about Dad. That he would be the one not there anymore. In my nightmares it was never Mom.

I heard Dad’s voice from the kitchen. He’d heard me yell I’m sure.

“Jordan!”

“Daddy?” I tried to push through the crowd of officers, of the crime scene people. I needed to get to my daddy.

I got to the kitchen, and I saw him. He was mad. As mad as I’d ever seen him. He was fighting his friends who were trying to hold him down. I… I saw blood on his clothes. But… But I knew he didn’t do it. He could never hurt Mom! He loved Mom. He loved me! He would never…

His friends – or the other officers – they didn’t seem to know that though. 

Daddy saw me and yelled for me again. He told them to let him go. And then they made him stand up and started trying to drag him through the door. I think he hit one of them. I don’t know.

Because at the same time, I felt hands on my shoulders. Not gentle hands. Hard hands. Rough hands. It was Officer Malden’s hands, but they weren’t gentle like when he was holding my hand as we walked – ok, I ran – home. He held me tightly. I’m pretty sure I had fingerprint bruises on my shoulders for a while after.  
Daddy yelled at him. Asked him where he was taking me. I don’t remember Officer Malden answering him. He just started dragging me out of the kitchen, through the living room. By the time he got me outside, I was fighting him tooth and nail. I know I landed at least one good kick to his leg. He put me in the back of his car – it wasn’t quite a throw, but it wasn’t nice and gently either. And he drove me to Child Protective Services.

And then took his sweet time giving Daddy the paperwork to allow me to stay with Kim and her family until he was able to come and get me. Or until… I know Daddy didn’t let himself think to that potential eventuality. 

That’s the other reason I know he didn’t kill Mom. If he had, he would have made more permanent, more definite arrangements for me. Something that would prevent me having to go and live with my grandmother – Mom’s mother. I hadn’t seen her for a while, and frankly I didn’t care. Even at 10 I knew she and I were not a good match.

I remember when he got out, when they figured out that he didn’t, that he couldn’t have killed Mom and he got out. He came right to the school to get me – he didn’t even wait for the principal to open the door. Well, he didn’t have to. I saw him in the hallway and bolted from my desk into his arms.

I don’t think I remember him ever holding me as tightly as he did in that moment. He picked me up, and even at 10, I wrapped my legs around him and let him carry me out, my head buried in his shoulder.

I didn’t cry though. Funny, I don’t remember not crying, but when I came back to Boston, I remember he said that. “You never cried for her, Jordan.” I was scared and sad, but I didn’t cry.

Now I get it – why they had to take Dad to the station and hold him and question him I mean. They always look at the spouse. They pretty much have to, even if they are quickly ruled out. Especially in a case like Mom’s. Dad is the one who found her. The one who called her murder in. He had gone home early for lunch to check on her. He had a feeling he said. He couldn’t explain it beyond that, and I guess that made him more suspicious in their minds. At least in Malden’s mind. Now that part makes sense. Actually now a lot of the stuff that happened with Malden makes sense – why he was so quick to judge Dad. Why he was so almost gleeful to be the one to take me to Child Protective Services. Why he took his sweet ass time getting Dad the paperwork so I didn’t have to go to foster care. (More on that in Mom’s chapter. Maybe.) But at the time, it didn’t make sense – the vendetta he seemed to have against Dad.

But like I was saying, looking at the circumstances and the situation, it does make sense that they would want to look closely at Dad. He is the one who found her. He had her blood on his hands. Once he dropped me off at school, he’d gone to the precinct until he left for lunch. But it’s easier to tell time of death than time of fatal injury, even now. And while we could do estimations on things like rate of blood loss, even today it wouldn’t be super accurate and then it would have been a random guess. So looking at things as I know things are now, I can see how a case could be made that he could have done it, left her lying on the floor dying, and then come back later to make it seem like someone else did it. 

I mean, it’s not a perfect scenario. I remember her hugging me before I left. And I don’t remember hearing anything once I was outside on the porch. And I was only out there for a couple of seconds before Dad joined me after kissing her. But I can see how someone could make a case. Especially someone with a vendetta.

But ultimately they didn’t have enough evidence to charge him with anything. The phantom print alone raised enough reasonable doubt to steer the Titanic through. So they released him and he came to Kim’s house to get me.

And they never solved it. Mom’s murder is now a cold case file. In the black hole of those cases that never get solved, where families never get answers.

After that, it was just the two of us. And I spent a lot more time at the precinct. Dad’s parents weren’t well – there was nothing specifically wrong with them, just age. And Mom’s mother started making noise about suing him for custody of me. It never got that far – largely because I put up enough of a fight I guess she figured I would be too much to handle and she stopped trying. But when she was threatening, Dad consulted a lawyer who said that even though there was the potential of Kim’s house (though truth be told things weren’t always comfortable there as Kim was starting to react to things… more in her chapter), it would look better if I was under more family supervision. How the lawyer thought keeping me at the precinct was “better” I don’t know. And ultimately it didn’t have to be tested in court – I would be surprised if that had counted for much of anything. 

Dad tried his best. I know he did. But naturally since I’m female there were some awkward times. Like more than once he bought packs of boys’ underwear for me – yeah, I have no clue on that one either. And let’s not even discuss when I got my period. Thank goodness for “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” so I had a clue what was going on. But in reality those were easy.

I remember one day when I was 12, I got home from school and found Dad sitting on the front steps, crying. He had locked himself out of the house. I had my own key because I didn’t always go to the precinct and hang out – sometimes I was allowed to go home. So I let us in. I hugged him close. I told him it was ok, that we were ok. I made him tea and snuggled up with him on the couch and we just hung out. But I remember even at 12 thinking it was really weird to cry over locking yourself out of the house. Especially when someone else who had a key lived there.

But in spite of that, we were pretty much doing ok. I was in school and doing well – I was pretty sure I wanted to be pre-med in college. Well, not “pretty sure”. I knew I wanted to be pre-med. I wanted to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon. To be able to help heal people’s hearts. I started wanting to do that after seeing Granddaddy – Dad’s father – die of a heart attack. Well, I didn’t see him die – at least I didn’t see him called. But I saw the heart attack happen. I know how helpless I felt while we were waiting. For the ambulance. For the drive to the hospital. For the doctor to come out. 

As far as the image of Jordan the world saw, I put on a good front – pretending I was tougher and more experienced than I was. Even Dad was shocked when he found out later (much later, like just a few years ago) that I didn’t lose my virginity until I was in college – my sophomore year to be specific. But that was an act to keep people at bay. Under the surface I was your basic nerd – doing my work, getting almost all As. I still didn’t cry, but I wasn’t as happy – or as ok – as I let on.

The one constant, the one thing that made me happy, made me feel so close and connected to Dad was the game.

You know, the “Who do you want to be?” game coined by the Cavanaugh Family Players. The one it seems like most people don’t get – they’d rather play the cute little version called Clue. And yeah, the one that I know people think of as inappropriate, as not the right thing to lay on a kid. But it always worked for us. 

After Mom died, Dad did what he could to be on day shifts so he didn’t have to leave me home at night or send me to someone’s house for the night (see also: Grandmother threatening to try and take me away). But sometimes that meant he would bring his case files home. I remember I’d go down the stairs and find him sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of scotch by his hand and a case file spread out so he could see the evidence all together. He would try to puzzle out the answers that didn’t come in the daylight – or at least didn’t come as easily in the daylight. 

I’d stand just in the shadows of the doorway and watch him. I didn’t think he could see me, but then one night he looked up and smiled and called me over, patting the chair next to him. He motioned to the stuff spread out over the table and said “So. Who do you want to be? Victim? Or Killer?”

Ok, yes. It’s slightly twisted. Especially when doing it with a child. But I never thought of it that way. And I’m pretty sure Dad never thought of it that way until Garret ripped him a new one for it (like Garret’s the model of excellent parenting…). Well, Evelyn wasn’t thrilled with it, but then Evelyn wasn’t thrilled with me (and fine, I’ll admit it… the disdain was mutual) so… Take that as you will. It was a way for us to spend time together, and a way for Dad to be able to be home with me and work on his cases – and for us to spend time together.

And trust me. None of those cases were anywhere close to as scary as the house in which I had lived before Mom’s death. So there.

We kept things on a pretty even keel while I was growing up. It wasn’t like I had no female influences in my life. I had my friend Kim and her Mom – but that got awkward as we got older and she… That’s for her chapter. Sorry. And after I met Lois Carver at the precinct she quickly became my big sister and I spent a lot of time with… Oops. Again, her chapter. So it wasn’t like it was just me and Dad.

But I hated the thought of leaving him alone, and as I got into high school and college loomed in front of us, it became more and more of a discussion point for us. I wanted to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon. That meant I needed to be pre-med. And I needed a certain level of school to be able to get into a certain level of medical school to be able to get into a certain level of residency. I mean, if you’re going to do it, do it right, you know? UMass was an obvious choice – it was in-state (in-state was a big deal because even though Dad knew that Grandmother had money in a trust fund that I could ask for and use for tuition, after her trying to take me away we hated her (or I did) and wanted nothing to do with her – so either of us going to her and asking for money… Well, it wasn’t going to happen.), it has an excellent rep, I had the grades and test scores to get in. But it was two hours away. 

Ok, so it’s not like it was across the country. But still. I didn’t want to be even that far away from him. (Remember the locked out thing? Yeah… I still didn’t really know what had happened there, and I definitely didn’t want it happening if I was going to be two hours away!) He wanted me to experience college like he hadn’t and Mom hadn’t. He wanted me to follow my dreams.

So I looked at all kinds of options, and finally found UMass Boston. It would have the rep and challenges of being a UMass school (and really, you don’t HAVE to say the city aloud when discussing it…only really on a resume or if a transcript is involved), but it would let me stay in Boston AND since it doesn’t have dorms would allow me to live at home and be there with Dad. We did discuss getting me an apartment, but nothing we could afford was in a neighborhood that would be safe for a young college student – even if said young college student was the daughter of a cop. So I’d live at home. That definitely made me happy. Remember how I said earlier I put on this persona and act? Yeah… I’ll be honest. The thought of going AWAY terrified me because I wouldn’t have my safety nets and zone around me. I would never have admitted it at the time, but I didn’t WANT to go away. I wasn’t ready yet.

I guess maybe in some ways I was still that ten year old girl I think Dad sometimes saw (sees?) when he looked at me.

But Dad kept insisting I had to have the real college experience – or at least some time in school and not living at home. So we compromised. A language immersion semester. Didn’t do squat for my major. But it did allow me to focus on my major classes and all but the language requirement for the general education credits.

I picked Italy. It was awesome in so many ways. But it was also terrifying for me being that far away from Dad, knowing he was a cop and knowing how dangerous things could be for him. But we both survived.

When I finished undergrad, it was time to look into med schools. Fortunately we have some of the best right here in Boston, and I got into Tufts, which was my first choice. And again, added bonus was that I could stay at home. Cut down on costs and let me be in my comfort zone and take care of Dad. (And since they only have 94 rooms available for med school students, I very easily played the “But I’ll be helping someone else keep their costs down as opposed to an off-campus apartment!” card, which Dad totally bought into.) And it wasn’t like I was constantly at home. I was out and about studying, in classes, in study groups. And Lois would have me over sometimes either just to hang or to sleep over in one of her extra rooms. Give me a sense of being on my own, but not being on my own. 

And it’s not like I had a super active social life anyway. I was definitely not into the college party scene. I went out, sure. But it was never anything serious. Well, until after Italy when something that could have been, no that was serious – and almost was a lot more serious before other things happened. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Things pretty much continued as they had been during undergrad – only my classes were a lot more intense and I had to study harder than I ever had before. But I knew the end result would all be worth it. And I wanted to do well. Yes, I had some grant and scholarship money, but Dad insisted on helping me pay for school – undergrad and med – so I wouldn’t have a ton of debts coming out.

He reminded me of that fact after what I’d say is probably the second worst day of my life. All my training and study, everything I’d worked for came crashing down. I’d gotten a residency under the best C-T surgeon around, and he’d let me into the operating room on a delicate case with him. And then things went south. I questioned what he was doing, and he curtly reminded me I was still the student, so I shut up. And she died. He convinced me – at first – to tell the story his way at our M&M conference, and I did. But then my conscience got the better of me and I went to the chief of surgery with my true feelings. And got myself fired and blacklisted in the process. I honestly thought my life was over. Dad was trying to make me feel better, and he got up to get some more scotch for himself. I opened the bottle of sleeping pills I had – not a big deal, pretty much all of the residents I knew had them. They’re one of the only ways to deal with the ridiculous hours that totally fuck up your sleep schedule. I guess I dumped more of them in my hand than I’d intended. And coupled with the scotch… I got a nice trip to Boston University Medical Center – site of my former residency – and they had to save me. The guy who had fired me hours before? Was the one who had to shock me back to life. Man did I get a lecture from Dad after that. 

“I spent good money putting you through medical school,” he said. “Were you absent the day they taught about not mixing pills and alcohol?”

I knew he was pissed. And scared. Well, no… He was terrified. At the time, and for most of my life after I just figured it was the whole I’m his daughter and no parent wants to bury their child thing. But some of the conversations we’ve had lately… They’ve made me think and wonder if there’s more to it. Not just THAT I almost died. But the manner in which I almost died – not the specific method, but the general overall concept…

I’m getting ahead of myself though.

After that, even though the jerk offered me my residency back, I turned him down. I’d met this guy in the whole process who made me think. And I made a decision to go and work for the Medical Examiner’s Office. Got my first apartment, but was still in Boston and still hung out with Dad a lot. 

And as things unfolded, it was clear that I made the right decision both in terms of location and time.

Dad’s since told me that after Mom died he made a promise to himself that he was always coming home to me, no matter what that meant. Well, sadly, it meant that sometimes he crossed the line. Most of the time it was overlooked because it could be easily explained away. But then…

There was one case he and Eddie were working in conjunction with Special Victims – there was a serial rapist everyone was trying to catch. Dad and Eddie were following a lead, and while the wanted suspect wasn’t there, someone else was. A known drug dealer. I don’t know exactly what happened (maybe the fear he refused to give voice to – the fear that I could be next – maybe that finally overtook anything else in his head…I really don’t know), but Dad snapped. Beat the guy so badly he had to be taken to the hospital.

Internal Affairs couldn’t ignore things any longer, and an investigation into Dad’s practices was opened. And naturally, they had to talk to his partner about what he’d seen. His partner Eddie.  
Suffice it to say Dad was given a choice – take early retirement, keeping benefits and such even if slightly reduced and face no Internal Affairs or further trial or attempt to fight it and when convicted lose everything and probably do jail time.

He chose early retirement, which was hard enough, but at least he had money to live on, he could get a job doing security or something, and he wasn’t facing any criminal charges. But it was still hard for him.

Harder when I ran from Boston in the wake of something I’ll discuss later. (What? The reason is not relevant to this particular discussion. Especially since Dad knows nothing about it.) And then got my butt fired from the Medical Examiner’s office in Boston. Oh, they didn’t use “fired” so I was able to get another job. Several actually. Chicago. Atlanta. Denver. Los Angeles.

And then Garret called and offered me my old job back, so I moved back. I figured I’d stay at home until I could find a place. That was before I learned about Evelyn.

Dad claimed he had been meaning to tell me about her, but… We talked pretty much every week. You expect me to believe that in however many months they’d been together he couldn’t just happen to mention that he’d moved an old high school girlfriend into my house? Maybe he figured I’d never come home if I knew. Maybe he figured right.

Anyway, he and I fell into our regular pattern of “Who Do You Want To Be?” looking at the cases I was working on. Evelyn didn’t like it at all. Evelyn didn’t think it was good for Dad to get “sucked back in” I think is how she phrased it. (Let’s not mention that Evelyn cleaned out the attic and got rid of all Mom’s stuff – Dad said it was his idea, but I don’t know.) Actually Evelyn apparently didn’t like a lot of things. Dad wasn’t even going to go out to Mom’s grave on her anniversary – we ALWAYS went out there on that day. ALWAYS. I don’t care what Dad said, Evelyn was exerting way too much control over him – and it seemed like she expected it would always be like that. When he helped me one time too many in her opinion, she gave him an ultimatum. In a note.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out Evelyn! I shed no tears over that one. And I think while Dad missed having some kind of companionship (EW! I don’t even want to think about that. EW!), I think he was really relieved in the end.

He helped me find a place – a really cool loft…even if he did find it by looking over the addresses of people brought into the morgue. And even if he did have to pay an exterminator to make sure all the snakes were out of there (don’t ask…just…don’t). And we’d grab dinner a couple of times a week, hang out together, that kind of thing.  
And then one night I was over having dinner at the house and saw a bunch of brochures about golf resorts and stuff in Florida. Uh, yeah. That is so not my Dad. We were starting to discuss it when he got up to refill our drinks and the phone rang. I got it and took a message. From an oncologist.

Yet again, Dad. As much as we’d been hanging out you couldn’t find the time to say something like “Oh, by the way, my doctor found a small spot and I have to get a biopsy done??”

A fight ensued. Well, a loud discussion. 

The next thing I knew, Dad came by the morgue to give me an address and ask me to meet him there. I had no idea what was up, but thought maybe it was his doctor’s or something. Uh, nope. It was an old bar. He’d bought a bar – with my inheritance, but that’s beside the point.

Actually it turned out to be a pretty good investment once he got the liquor distribution figured out and word sort of spread. Get some cops coming in and pretty soon word will get out. The Pogue Mahone was a fun little place to hang out. Pool table. Jukebox. Good drinks and usually good music (that does not include the karaoke machine he got and thought that would be a good idea). I even did a gig or two there with some guys I’d played with before.

The summer after was…interesting. I ended up working on a case at Summit View Mental Hospital. And I started getting little things indicating Mom had been a patient there. I tried to ask Dad about it, but he kept shutting me out. Finally, when I got proof that she had been admitted and spent time there as a patient, Dad told me she’d had a miscarriage when I was five and couldn’t deal. He was worried for her, and worried for me. He disagreed with her mother over what was the best way to deal, and he made the decision to admit her to Summit View for a while.

He never told me exactly what her treatment was, and I wasn’t able to find enough information about her being there to discover it. But I do remember sitting outside the building under a tree – I guess while Dad would visit Mom. I don’t remember ever going inside though. And I can’t remember her coming out to see me.

Turns out the “presents” were being left by this guy who had been remanded there by the courts when he clammed up after being accused of murdering his wife and kids. Suddenly he couldn’t talk, and as a result couldn’t face trial, but the commonwealth wasn’t about to release him, so he was declared criminally insane and remanded to Summit View. He said he knew who killed my mother and sent me on this chase to prove he hadn’t killed his family. In exchange for me getting him freed, he’d tell me what he knew.

Well, he sent me on this chase that led me to the evidence room and the box on his case. In the box I found a knife, and when Nigel tested the blood on it, we discovered that it had a preservative in it. It had been planted. And the officer who “found” it? Was Dad.

Oh did that lead to a screaming fight which ended with me slapping Dad across the face. I honestly had no clue what I was doing at the time other than just reacting. But it definitely was one of the low points in our relationship – at least up to then. 

I didn’t have a choice I felt but to go to the District Attorney with what I now knew. I felt bad about it – of course I did. But… I didn’t expect that the District Attorney would actually go after Dad. Not that I knew that at the time. Because I’d pretty much freaked out and run after Redding, who had disappeared.

Long story there (and most of it doesn’t go in this chapter, but Woody’s), but basically Redding ended up dead and with his death the District Attorney decided to drop any prosecution of my Dad or anyone since there wasn’t anyone to try in the case itself as the perpetrator was dead.

But yeah, that put a strain on our relationship for a bit. Slowly we started rebuilding some trust and finally things seemed to be getting back in balance and then… 

And then…

I walked into the morgue and Emmy gave me a message from an old photo shop. They had called the morgue looking for Emily Cavanaugh. I guess they found my name on line or something and figured maybe I’d know her. The shop was closing and was going through old film that was never picked up. And they had some from 1963 with Mom’s name on it. When I finally got there when Jenna – the girl who’d called – was there, she said that the film had been picked up. I gave her a description of Dad, and she said that sounded like the guy who had. I went to the house to ask him about it because when I casually mentioned the call to him he had acted like it was just a case of mistaken identity – after all, Emily isn’t an uncommon name, and an Irish name like Cavanaugh would be all over the Boston area so it only figured that there could be at least one other Emily Cavanaugh out there. But if he’d gone and picked it up…

My suspicions proved to be correct when I didn’t find him, but I did find the remnants of home movie film he’d burned. I took the film to the morgue and asked Nigel if he could salvage any of it. He did his best and got about three seconds worth.

It was Mom, standing in the kitchen of the house on Broad Street. She looked so young, so much younger than I remember her ever looking. She was facing the sink, but in the few frames, she turned to face the camera, like someone (probably Dad) had called her name. There was something in her arms, and when we froze the image and zoomed in on it, it was a baby.

Mom was holding a baby in our house six years before I was born.

I flew back to the house to see if Dad was there. If I could find any answers in the case file box that was at the house. I’m not sure how we had it – maybe it was copies Dad had smuggled out or something. But we did. Dad wasn’t there, but stuff was spread over the table like he’d been looking at it. The phone rang, so I answered it (I mean, it’s still kind of my house).

“Well, hello,” a voice said. “Sis.”

So yeah… Apparently I had a brother. A brother who was born when Mom had just turned 17 (I’m not stupid…I can do math.) And he’d lured Dad over to the abandoned house on Broad Street (they’re all abandoned from back when the city dug under the street and they were pretty much all uninhabitable.

I went over and found Dad obviously beaten, tied to a chair. James – that was his name – he was lurking in the shadows. He kept goading Dad to tell me the truth about him. I’d already discovered that Dad had worked on a kidnapping case around the same time – and supposedly the baby was found. But…

Dad’s version was that he came home and found Mom holding James under the water in the tub. He pulled James from Mom’s hands and took him to the Hortons – the couple whose baby had been kidnapped and turned up dead. He showed up on their porch with James, asking them to raise him until Mom was better – he said she was sick and couldn’t care for him. And that he couldn’t take care of Mom, a baby, and do his job. He said he would come back for him when his wife was better.

But he said every time he went back, he saw how settled James was, how much of a family they were. He couldn’t see any good in disrupting that happiness and that family.

James said that wasn’t true. That the reason Dad gave him away was that he wasn’t Dad’s child.

Um…

Ok, so I found out later that most likely that was true – that he wasn’t Dad’s. But the other part… Honestly as much as I may question some of the stuff Dad’s told me, I’m inclined to believe him about Mom and the bathtub. I remember when the Andrea Yates case happened how he was more upset than most people were – like, it seemed personal to him.

As far as James not being his… I’m willing to buy that too. I have this memory of being in bed one night, trying to stay awake until Dad got home – probably meaning that Mom wasn’t doing great and I was feeling lonely and ignored, but it could just as easily have been that I was (am?) a Daddy’s girl and just wanted to give him a hug.  
I jumped out of bed when I heard the door open and close – Daddy’s home! – and after a few minutes, I crept downstairs to see him. I could hear laughing – Mom was actually laughing – and some other noises, so I peeked into the kitchen. No one was there, but there was a baseball cap on the table.

A Yankees cap to be specific.

That was ALL wrong. Daddy was NOT a Yankees fan. We were not Yankees fans in our house. I didn’t think a Yankees fan would be tolerated in our house. We were Sox fans through and through. And yet, there was a Yankees cap on the table.

I don’t think I was more than four or five, but even then I knew something wasn’t right. Whoever was making Mom laugh, it wasn’t Daddy. Now, as an adult, I understand what was happening pretty much in full detail. As a child, I just suddenly had this feeling that love wasn’t safe at all. I remember running upstairs and burying myself under my covers, not coming out until Daddy came in to wake me up the next morning.

So Mom was having an affair then, when I was five or so. And…

After James reentered our lives, even if briefly, I’ll admit I started to wonder. One night I was sitting at the bar in the Pogue after closing and Dad and I were sort of dancing around the subject - I had ironically had a case where paternity was in question - and he finally asked if I was trying to ask him something. I said I didn’t think so. 

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m your father.”

I nodded, but I guess I didn’t look overly convinced because he then said “Do you want to run the DNA?”

“I’ll have another beer. DAD,” I said.

And I thought that was going to be it. Until...

Ok, now I need to get back to James. I tracked down the car that Redding had given me the key to and finally got up the courage to go to it and investigate. What I found in the trunk was a skeleton. A skeleton that turned out to be Carl Jeffers. With a gun that I was pretty sure was Dad’s.

I took the gun to have Nigel run trace on it (long story there...Nige didn’t do it, but Peter did...and then turned it in), and called the skeleton in making sure I talked to Woody. Needless to say, things went from merely batshit to hell quickly after that. 

Surprisingly Woody tried his best to help up to and including getting the phone records from our house the night before… There was a call to the precinct after Dad had already let Mom know that he was going to have to work later than planned.

A call to Malden. Dad and Woody didn’t know I knew that bit of information. I’d let myself into the Pogue while they were discussing it. The logs confirmed our suspicions - Malden was James’ father (Ok, go Mom? I mean, clearly she was sleeping with both Dad and Malden. At fifteen?!?!? I guess someone really wanted out of her Beacon Hill trappings… But that’s probably something that belongs in Mom’s entry when I feel like getting around to that one.)

I left before either of them saw me. Went to Malden’s office where he proceeded to drug me with Methyhexital and Scotch and make me lead him to James. Long story (and not a lot involving Dad at that point as he went into hiding), but it ended with Malden dead on the floor of my loft and James presumed dead after throwing himself into the Charles from a long way up.  
I saw Dad briefly during everything that went down following Malden’s murder (I don’t believe for a moment Dad did it. I’m pretty sure it was James, and it was in self-defense - and defense of me), but he mostly stayed hidden somewhere. The next time I really saw him, he asked me to meet him at the Pogue.

When I got there, he poured me a drink and then gave me the deed to the Pogue. He said he was going away for a while. He put on some music and then held me close as we danced. I had no clue if I’d ever see him again.

I did not quite a year later. Thankfully he showed up because one of his former buddies from the force showed up in the morgue. Dead of not natural causes. We found Pete O’Malley, and the two of them told me the story (I have no clue if it’s the whole story or not). There was dirty money they were going to split – money that went missing. The only other one involved was Kevin Cahill – another mobster, though one not working with Conroy. Lots of shit went down, and Cahill ended up dead at Pete’s hand. He claimed self-defense, but even not doing the autopsy I could tell the shot was execution-style. I didn’t know what Dad or I would say when we ended up being questioned about it when they found Pete.

Not that they did. Because he had all the money and he took it and ran. He offered to split it with Dad, but Dad said it was blood money. I looked at Dad hard when he said that, but I was too scared to ask the question on my mind. Had “Uncle Pete” killed Mom? 

Like I said, I was too scared to ask. So much of what I’d known was turning out to be a lie, I couldn’t face it if… Sometimes things are better left unsaid. Maybe.

Dad is still in Boston. Somewhere. He’s not living at home right now – I think it’s rented out to someone. He didn’t feel safe in it, even with Cahill dead. And he didn’t feel safe having me move in as logical as that option might have been (it would certainly save me some money). He’s not telling me where he’s living so that if anyone ever asks I can honestly say I don’t know. Even now, he’s protecting me. Just like a Dad should. 

I think.


	4. James Horton

So I guess this is about as good a place as any to talk about my brother. Half-brother? Full brother? I mean, I know Mom was having an affair with someone while I was alive. And Malden’s the only idiot I know stupid enough to display Yankees shit in Boston, and especially in the police department! And whoever Mom was screwing when I was little wore a Yankees cap. And we established that he was James’ father thanks to the phone records – I mean, really why else would Mom have called Malden? To say some random guy just showed up at the house? Why not just call Dad? No, it only makes sense that she was calling to let him know his son was alive. So…

No. I refuse to believe that monster provided the sperm that made me. And even if he did, I wouldn’t claim him. Dad is the one who raised me. Dad is the one who fought Grandmother when she started making noises about taking me away. Max is a great guy, no doubt (some lapses in judgment aside), but I just don’t see him doing that – raising a child, and a girl no less, as a single father on a cop’s salary if he had the slightest doubt I was his. And even if by some craziness Max isn’t biologically my father, in every other sense he is a true father. So therefore I’m not even entertaining that. Max is my dad. Period.

Ok, now that we’ve covered that, let’s get back to James. My half-brother. Or what I know of him.

I know James was born in 1963. And I know that makes Mom around 17 (I don’t know his exact birth date, so I’m not sure where in the year his birth fell – she could have been 16 or she could have been 17). Dad would have been 22 or 23. So…yeah. I can only guess at what happened. When Dad and I do talk now, I’m trying really hard NOT to bring up stuff about Mom or anything because I don’t want to mess up the bonds we’re slowly starting to rebuild. So my guess as to how it went is something like this (and maybe it should go in Mom’s chapter, but I may just write it again in there anyway)…

Mom felt a little penned in by her Beacon Hill upbringing – always having to do the right things and say the right things. Mom decided to rebel a little bit and ended up meeting some cops. Maybe she was hanging out at the diner they went to. Or maybe she was working there to get some money of her own not tied to my grandparents? There’s no way to know without asking Dad and again, not gonna happen. But at any rate, she met at least Dad and Malden. And apparently was seeing both of them. She ends up pregnant, and clearly that will not fly on Beacon Hill, but being Catholic having an abortion is out of the question. Had she been remotely close to any of the guys in her social circle, there might have been a quick but elegant wedding with the baby being proclaimed a “honeymoon gift”. But with the father being a cop? So not happening. (Trust me. I know my grandmother.) Dad being the stand-up guy he is (and being oblivious to Malden and Mom) I’m sure felt like he needed to do right by Mom, so he stepped up and married her. I know there were no fancy wedding pictures around, so they probably eloped. Makes sense.

So they get married. Baby boy is born. Given Dad’s reaction, I honestly believe that he didn’t know there was even a possibility James wasn’t his. He said Malden and Mom would laugh a lot – I don’t know, to me that says something because Mom was not a laugher most of the time. But from everything I know he had no reason to believe he wasn’t James’ father. And Mom…it’s pretty clear from everything I’ve found and what little Dad has said that her mental issues started fairly early. My guess is that James’ birth (not to mention the stress around his paternity…Mom had to know and probably lived in fear of what would happen when Dad found out. Not that I think for one moment he’d be violent, but he would have been hurt and it would have irrevocably changed their relationship) probably set off a major post-partum depression which just compounded everything else. I do believe Dad when he says he came in and found Mom holding James under the water. Like I said earlier, he flipped out much more than most people when the Andrea Yates case was all over the news. And from what I remember of Mom she wouldn’t have a recollection of it after the fact.

So Dad saves him from drowning, but knows he needs to get Mom help, and knows he can’t deal with that, an infant son, and his job all at the same time. And no job would mean no money which would mean Mom and said infant son couldn’t be taken care of. So.

He knew a couple whose son would have been maybe a little older than James. You know, I don’t even know what his name was when he lived with my parents. I’m guessing not James, but I’m not sure. File it under: Would upset Dad too much so I’m not addressing it. (That file is getting VERY thick, let me tell you.) The Horton’s son was named James. He was kidnapped. Dad caught the case, and it didn’t have a happy ending. Still, he had developed a relationship with them and knew they would be good parents – that they had been good parents. So he made a snap, heat of the moment decision and took the baby to them, asking them to take care of him, to raise them as their own at least for a little while. His wife couldn’t cope and had to go away for help. (This just further cements my theory that Mom had been if not disowned then told the Beacon Hill version of “You made your bed”. Because yes, Dad said he and Grandmother disagreed on how to help Mom, but even with that I can’t see him giving the baby to non-family if there was any kind of relationship there. Then again, he fought her about me, so… maybe he did suspect James wasn't his?)

So the Hortons took the baby in and named him James. Now, don’t ask me about that…either no one else knew that their kidnapped baby had died or maybe they said that the body found hadn’t been theirs and James was found? I have no clue, and I really don’t want to delve into that particular black hole because short of going to talk with them (not looking to repeat that experience), I’m never going to know. He was raised by them, and from everything they told me and everything that Dad said, he had a good life. They loved him and took care of him. 

Of course his version is a little different. They didn’t care about him. They raised him in a small room in a building that was essentially slums. He had to be their dead son. Had their dead son have been older than an infant, I might buy some of it, but what was there to live up to – peeing and pooping superiority? All of his childhood was HIS and was lived with them. But they said as he grew he started to show definite anger issues, more than just your standard stuff. Which leads me to think that he might have inherited some of Mom’s mental issues. But who knows. I do know that he ran away when he was 16 – on September 17, 1979. He told me he went to see Mom that night. I’m not sure where I was that night, maybe Dad had taken me out to eat? She apparently said something about being scared for her life, scared for his life, etc. Now, I could buy being scared for her own life knowing what I know now. But scared for his life? I mean, if no one knew he existed…

So that definitely lends credibility to the theory of her knowing that he wasn’t Dad’s, and of her having told Malden before that night. Because someone – most likely mob based on everything I know now – was threatening her, him…maybe me and Dad, but she didn’t seem to be that concerned about me and Dad. Anyway. 

Other questions there… How did he know where we lived? What did he know about us? Did he know I existed? Did he resent me? Sure as an adult he tried to make me feel guilty for “living his life”, but did he feel that way then? And if so, why didn’t he make it a point to come when he knew I’d be there so he could see me?

At any rate, back to what I know. He visited Mom. I guess they had some of my leftover cake because his print was found in the kitchen. Mom gave him Dad’s service revolver (that is was missing is well documented as Dad was not stupid and checked it every night, so he would definitely have reported it missing first thing the next morning, which he did), and that service revolver was used to kill Carl Jeffers.

Why Jeffers? Did Jeffers come after him? Did he think it was Malden? Dad? Way more questions than answers in all this. And no way to get answers because everyone involved is dead. Or in James’ case presumed dead.

Once I knew about James, he haunted my dreams for months. And I’d hear from him even if I didn’t know it was him. He’d take on the persona of a private investigator and feed me information leading me to find what he wanted or needed to have found. And then that night when Malden was killed…

He’d come to my apartment earlier (I later learned from Woody that James had been living in an apartment right across the street – he could watch me and learn everything he needed to in order to manipulate me) and told me he needed somewhere to stay, that powerful people were after him. And me, being stupidly desperate for some connection of family, I let him in and let him stay. Then the discovery about Malden… I went to his office to ask him questions and ended up drugged with Methylhexital and scotch – and led him right to James. I honestly don’t remember that night. I’m pretty sure that Malden and James struggled with the gun and Malden ended up dead. Someone called Dad at the Pogue and said I was in danger – whether that was Malden or James I have no clue. I don’t want to deal with the phone records. I do know that Malden ended up dead on my floor with Dad standing over his body holding a gun, Woody holding a gun on my Dad, and James (apparently it was him) whacking Woody on the head and running out.

Lots of stuff went down and I ended up in a cop car, I thought I was going to the hospital first, but as it turns out, James had offed the officer who should have been driving the car and decided to take me to this building that was undergoing renovation. That’s where he tried to sell me the “I grew up locked in a room in the projects” story. Woody and Annie Capra followed the car and got up to us. James climbed onto the ledge and tried to get me to go with him. I tried to talk him down. He reached for my hand, and our fingers brushed before he fell (jumped? but really it was more like a lean) out of the open space and crashed into the Charles River. 

They’ve never recovered his body. I mean, yes, there is a less than one percent chance he could have survived a fall like that, and I saw the splash so I know he hit, but they’ve never found a body.

But… That’s where the story of James in my life ends. Half-brother I never knew I had came into my life and is batshit crazy and tried to take me out with him when he for all intents and purposes committed suicide. 

End of story.


	5. Grandmother - Elizabeth Johnston Lowell

So what would a glimpse into the people of Jordan Cavanaugh’s life look like without throwing my grandmother in? I’m talking Mom’s mother here. I don’t really remember her father, and Dad’s parents while wonderful weren’t around after I was 13 (no, nothing like with Mom’s mother – Granddaddy Cavanaugh died of a heart attack when I was 12 and Grandmommy Cavanaugh died within a year of his death.), so Grandmother Lowell is pretty much it.

I do have some memories of having fun, good times with her when I was little. Making cookies. Running in the garden at her house. She and Grandfather had a house out on the Cape, and I remember going there once or twice with Mom just to get out of the city in the summer.

But Grandmother was of Beacon Hill society, and she never let us forget it. Things seemed to get better after I was born – I guess a pretty little granddaughter can help to smooth over the rough edges. Or something. But still there was obvious tension with monetary things. I’m pretty sure she’s who paid my grammar and high school tuition so that I could go to St. Anne’s and then Scholastica all the way through rather than be in the public schools, especially in South Boston. So I’m sure that was a point of tension.

And then there’s the aforementioned tension as to how to take care of Mom when her mental health issues flared up. I’ll admit that back in the 70s mental illness was definitely treated differently. Having it was a stigma, and not one that those in Beacon Hill Society would want to own up to. You’d certainly not put someone in a place like Summit View to get help. You’d go to a spa somewhere. Whatever was wrong it had to be fixable by laying in the sun sipping a little umbrellaed drink, right?

Ok, maybe I’m not being fair. But from what I’ve learned from Dad, Grandmother was definitely against putting Mom in the hospital. Maybe she felt guilt over kicking her out when she got pregnant at 16 (maybe even 15?) or something? No clue. I want to believe she was only doing what she thought was best, but I can’t be totally sure about that.

I remember her being stonily silent at the wake and the service after Mom died. I don’t remember her hugging me, though she might have. I’m sure she didn’t hug Dad. She barely acknowledged his existence at the best of times. She tolerated him because of her daughter and granddaughter. And after Mom… Ok, I know people handle grief in different ways (lord knows there are a lot of people who would say that my way is wrong), but she was just cold even then.

I honestly don’t know why she tried to take me away from Dad. I would like to believe that she was thinking of it with good intentions – of giving me a home where someone would be there at the “normal” hours an adult should be, or where I didn’t face the possibility of being left alone should the unthinkable happen. (Though I’m pretty sure at that point she would have gotten custody of me anyway. Now that I think about it, I’m surprised she didn’t look into ways to get rid of Dad so she could save herself the expense of a court battle.) She had certainly never shown that much interest in me before – at least not to the point where she’d even act like she wanted to take care of me long-term. I honestly think it was one of those “you cost me my daughter, so now…” kind of things. Revenge pure and simple.

I don’t know if I saw that at 10 or if I just didn’t want to go with her period. I know I didn’t want to leave Dad – I’d always been Daddy’s little girl, and now especially he was my everything, my whole world. I started raising a fuss – I don’t remember what specific things I said, but apparently they were enough for her to drop the pursuit of custody of me. Because she did. Suddenly there was just no more word from her lawyer other than to say “My client is no longer interested in pursuing this course of action.”

Wow. Reduced to being a “course of action”. Thanks a ton there Grandmother.

There was pretty much no contact after that.

Until George showed up at the morgue with a summons to the mansion (ok, it was an invitation to tea). I showed it to Dad, and he actually encouraged me to go. I was all “But we HATE her,” and he said maybe it was time to let bygones be bygones. I didn’t necessarily agree, but I did go to tea.

And while she claimed she was trying to make an effort to reconnect, it reeked of “I’m looking at the end of my life and trying to make assessments for the distribution of my money.” And sorry there Grandmother, but money isn’t THAT important to me to suck it up and kiss your ass.

I did go back, and we talked and began trying to rebuild bonds. They’re tentative, but they’re there.

The next time I saw her was during the whole Cynthia Montgomery case. When it looked like Woody might have done it. Yes, I used my relationship with Grandmother to get into the Montgomery mansion to get up to Cynthia’s room and see if I could find anything to explain the bruising and cracked rib. Once we found the same thing on her boyfriend I had a pretty good idea what I was looking for. Grandmother wasn’t thrilled with me tagging along, but she thought I was going to behave.

The look on her face when she realized I’d done it to find the truth, yes, but also to prove Woody’s innocence… I can only imagine that was pretty much the same look (or close to it) that Mom got when she was doing her rebellion thing with cops. The “but you are so much better than that…” attitude.

I see her occasionally – we’re never going to be close. And honestly that’s perfectly fine with me.


	6. Kim Watkins

Kim Watkins and I met in first grade at St. Anne’s. We were in the same class, but it took a while for us to interact. Being an only child of a mom who was often there but not there, I was pretty quiet and used to keeping to myself. Kim, on the other hand, was bubbly and friendly, flitting from one group to another at recess while I was content to sit by myself, maybe on a swing but just as likely under a tree just watching. I think it was second grade when we got paired up for a project that we started talking and a friendship that would last through today, even with its share of ups and downs and periods of not talking. 

When Mom died, Kim was one of the only kids who didn’t stay away from me for fear that what happened to me would rub off on them. Just the opposite really. Well, part of it was necessity as once Malden finally got around to giving Dad the papers authorizing Child Protective Services to let me stay with someone, he directed them to take me to Kim’s house. Yes, I stayed with her in her big (double, but to a ten year old it was huge) canopy bed, but how she was with me was more than just tolerating a bedmate. She made her mom bring her to the funeral. She kept other kids away from me if they wanted to pick on me. She – and her mom and dad – let me be who and how I needed to be and didn’t push me to be or do anything I didn’t want to do. 

High school, we started to drift apart a little. She was still in the more popular crowd and I was still a bit of outsider (again, it was all self-preservation on my part…if I kept people at a distance, they couldn’t hurt me as easily). But we did have some…interesting times. Like one night her parents had gone to some benefit thing and I was going to stay over. I was totally cool with just ordering pizza, making brownies, the usual. But Kim dragged me into the kitchen and showed me a bottle of vodka she’d snuck out of her parents’ stash (“They have plenty of this. Trust me. They’ll never notice!”) and then proceeded to make jello shots. Only she reversed the amounts of vodka and water, so where we would have been “just” drunk, we were plastered. I don’t remember ever being as sick from alcohol as I was that night. And to this day I still can’t look at lime jello without feeling sick.

During college and then med school for me and law school for her we really lost touch for all but the obligatory “Let’s get together for dinner” things on breaks. 

We finally reconnected after I moved back to Boston – she and one of our other friends cornered me in the morgue and guilted me into hanging out with them. We had about as much in common as we had before, but I guess it was nice to reconnect. Kim and I stayed in better touch. 

Of course, there was one case where she was the attorney for our prime suspect. Let me tell you how much fun that was. I mean, ultimately we ended up on the same side of things, but it was touchy for a while there.

And then there was the night of Chinese food. My fortune said something about risks in love and she pushed me on the general fact. And then I ended up meeting this guy in Dad’s bar, and he basically gave me a key to his hotel room. It was supposed to be just this anonymous thing. But then…then he ended up being an Assistant District Attorney who used that (oh he wasn’t stupid enough to admit what we’d done…and he later claimed he didn’t know it was me at first) and ripped me a new one on the stand. When I told Kim about it, she kind of flipped out at me and said she never meant for me to do anything like THAT. But ultimately I put a stop to it – and I learned that I don’t want to be intimate without being intimate. 

If that makes sense.


	7. Paul

I have vague memories of Paul in grammar school at St. Anne’s. We were in the same class, but we didn’t interact that much. And even less after Mom died. It was really bizarre, other than Kim (who was there for me whenever, at least until we hit junior high) all the kids pretty much avoided me for a while. Like if they all thought that my “luck” would rub off on them or something. Yeah, Paul was in that category.

By the time we hit high school at Scholastica, they were pretty much over that. And partway through junior year, Paul and I started dating. There were people who I know thought I’d done more than date several other guys, and I’m sure they thought I was doing more than just dating Paul. But no. Paul was my first boyfriend. And we didn’t do anything besides kissing and some very light making out.

I just put on a front for everyone else. Acting tough made it easier to keep people away from me. But Paul managed to get through my defenses. And there was all kinds of talk that after graduation or at least by the time we got out of college we’d be married.

And then senior skip day happened. Or more specifically our conversation on senior skip day happened.

It was the Monday after prom had been on Saturday. Amazingly Dad didn’t put up a fight when I said I was skipping. He just asked about my plans (Paul had suggested going to the Commons and having a picnic and just hanging out), then hugged me and told me to have a good time.

We had a great morning, just talking and cuddling. Lunch was hot dogs, chips and sodas from one of the vendors there in the Commons. And then around 2, Paul rolled to his side and looked at me for a long moment.

“Ok, what?” I asked.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound good…” I said.

“It is…” he said quietly. “And…and it’s not.”

I sat up at that, watching him carefully. “So… Spill.”

Paul slowly sat up. He reached over and took my hand. “Jordan, you know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And I love you too.”

“And you know I’ve been talking to Father MacAulay a lot,” he said.

“Yeah…”

“I’m not going to college after graduation,” he said.

“Um, ok,” I said. “Nothing says that everyone has to…”

“I’m going to seminary,” Paul cut me off.

“Seminary?”

“To…” he seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Jordan, I’ve been called.”

“Called?” Why did I sound like a brain damaged parrot suddenly?

“By God,” he said. At my blank look he continued, “I’m going into the priesthood.”

“Oh…” I was at a loss for words.

“Jor, I’m so…” he was trying to figure out what to say. “I just… I…”

Finally I found my voice. “As if I didn’t have enough issues with God,” I said quietly.

“What?”

“First the whole thing about Mom’s murder being ‘God’s will’ at least according to Father Mitchell,” I said. (Yes. The priest who did Mom’s mass actually had the balls to tell me that her death was God’s will. Made me think real highly of God let me tell you.) “And now he’s taking my first love away from me? Yeah…I’m really into him after this.”

“Jordan, you’re not losing me,” Paul started.

“Oh, so priests can be married now?” I asked. Not that I was necessarily thinking marriage, but.

“No…” Paul said. “But we can still talk. We can still be friends.”

I hated that I felt tears building behind my eyes. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew when I opened my mouth they would start falling. And I was very picky about who saw me cry. Lois. Occasionally Dad. And that was about it. I was not going to let Paul see me cry if I could help it.

“Jor,” Paul said, reaching for my hand. “Sweetie, I…”

“You said you loved me,” I said.

“I do, Jor,” he said. “God knows I do. But I can’t deny the Call I feel.”

“And what if it’s wrong?” 

“If my Call is wrong?” he asked, confused.

“If what you think is a ‘Call’ isn’t that at all,” I said. “That it’s just some delusion you’ve talked yourself into. Or let Father MacAulay talk you into.”

(Please to note: this was before all the scandal hit, so I don’t think it had anything to do with that. I’ve occasionally been wrong before though.)

Paul sighed. “Jordan, when it comes to faith, it just… It just comes down to faith. I believe in God. And I believe that God is calling me to this.”

I didn’t pull my hand away, but I couldn’t look at him. I fixed my eyes on the horizon and just remained silent for a long time.

“Jordan? Talk to me,” Paul said. “Please.”

I turned towards him, trying to keep my emotions off my face but knowing that my eyes were a mixture of hurt, confusion, and anger. “It doesn’t seem like there’s anything to talk about,” I said. “You’ve decided.”

Paul squeezed my hand. “We can still be friends,” he said. “Nothing says a priest can’t have friends.”

“Even if that friend doesn’t believe in your God anymore?” I asked.

He sighed. “Even then.”

I thought about it for a long moment. “I guess we can try,” I said. “To be friends.”

Paul half-smiled at me. “I promise you Jordan. The collar isn’t going to mean the end of our friendship.”

I bit my lip and nodded as he pulled me close, letting him hug me for a long moment. Finally it got to be too much and I pulled away.

“I just… I need to go and…” I stood up and grabbed my bag, figuring I’d go and find Lois either at the precinct or at her place. She’d understand I was pretty sure.

In spite of our promises to each other, we did lose touch as we got further and further into our lives. The next time I saw Paul was a few years ago when I had the homeless guy who died at St. Eleigius end up on my slab.

The death I could explain. Electrocution. 

The stigmata on his hands and feet? And the fact that he disappeared from the crypt and ended up in a garden that was to replicate a garden in Assisi? That I couldn’t explain.

That case also happened to be at the time when Dad had his cancer scare. I told Paul about it, and he offered to pray with me. I still wasn’t sure I bought into it, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. We were in the confessional, but he opened the screen and held my hand while I tried to pray.

We would meet for coffee now and then and just talk. While I wasn’t ready to jump back into going to mass and all that, I wasn’t totally anti-God anymore and was willing to admit that there might be someone (something?) out there.

And then there was the case of the woman who was found murdered on the grounds of Paul’s church. Everything pointed to the fact that she was having an affair. And Paul kept invoking the seal of the confessional, and when we traced the card used at one of the last dinners out she’d had back…

It looked bad for Paul. Really bad. We finally figured it out that it was Father Castinelli, the other priest at the church who was having the affair with her. Paul was the confessor to both of them.

So it’s an interesting relationship we have. The priest and the for all intents and purposes agnostic-at-best medical examiner (I kind of want to believe there’s something bigger out there, that all the shit that goes on here isn’t just random, so I try to not say I’m an atheist…but I probably fall more on that side of things if I’m being honest. But hey, as long as Hollywood is fine with interchanging the terms, I should be too I guess.). But for whatever reason it seems to work for us. At least for now.


	8. Linda Ferris (and by extension Michael Champan)

I know you are totally asking yourself what the hell is a chapter on Linda Ferris doing in here. But bear with me here. You’ll see.

When her body was found in that trunk it stirred up so much shit for me. All going back to my first time.

Yes, THAT first time.

Michael Chapman was a guy who was in my pre-med classes. I though he was pretty cute and nice, and I guess it was mutual. We started out in a study group together and gradually started having “private” study sessions. That were really dates.

Eventually things progressed to where he was beginning to ask about where the relationship was going. I hadn’t really ever thought about sex that way – it wasn’t ever something that came up with Paul, and I didn’t really date anyone else. So I was pretty inexperienced in that whole respect.

But finally I decided it was time. I told him so we could be prepared. I mean, I was on the pill, I had been for a few years because of really severe cramps. But I knew I’d feel better with a little extra…protection. I wasn’t totally stupid – I grabbed some condoms so I had them in case he didn’t. But as it turns out he had. He got the ones he wanted – which was fine with me.

He had also gotten (or maybe he had and just pulled it out) a porn video.

For me to watch.

So I would know what to do.

I wish I was kidding. I really wish I was kidding. But I’m not.

We snuggled up on his bead and he turned the video on. I could hardly watch parts of the video, but I tried to play along with him. 

When it was over, Michael started kissing me, petting me, and basically started going for it. I know that in general the first time isn’t super pleasant for women, but in this case it was made all that much worse by everything that led into it.

When it was over, he got up and got dressed. “I wish I could say I enjoyed it,” he said. “But…”

I just stared at him, trying not to burst into tears.

“You’re cool with letting yourself out?” he asked. “I’m gonna go meet the guys at O’Malley’s.”

I continued to stare at him as he left me sitting there in the middle of his bed, totally naked in every way possible. If I hadn’t said yes, I swear it would have been rape.

When my shock wore off enough I could move, I pulled on my clothes and left, leaving the door standing wide open. There was no way to prove I hadn’t closed it if anything went missing. I went home, breathing a sigh of relief that Dad wasn’t there.

I felt like shit. I hadn’t made a big deal out of saving myself, but I guess in my mind I had. I wanted it to be special, to mean something.

I threw on some running clothes and decided I’d go run down by the river, one of my favorite places to run. I knew it wasn’t the safest thing to do that late, but at the moment I didn’t care. I wanted something bad to happen to me.

After running for an hour or so, I decided to go to Lois’ house and see if she was there. I wanted to talk to someone – and that someone was NOT going to be my father! I knew something had happened as soon as she opened the door.

“Jordan! Thank God!” she said, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Um, I’m glad to see you too, Lo?” I half asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“You haven’t heard,” she said, realizing I was clueless as to why she was hugging me super tight.

“Clearly not…”

“A young woman got grabbed about 30 minutes ago, running down by the river,” she said. “I know your dad tried to call you. He knows that you…” She stopped and grabbed her purse and keys. “Come on.”

I just looked at her. “First off, where are we going?” I asked. “And second off, do you have a sweatshirt I can put on?” My running clothes were damp and I was beginning to get a chill.  
Lois paused and regrouped, then nodded. She reached into the closet and grabbed a hoodie for me which I quickly used to replace my sweat-damp running shirt.

“Ok?” she asked. When I nodded, she said “Come on. We’re going to show Max you’re ok.”

“Um, Lois…” I started. “I kind of wanted to talk to you about…”

“We will,” she said. “But first I know Max needs to see you. To know you’re alive and ok.”

So we went to the precinct so that I could check in with Dad. Obviously I didn’t tell him I’d been running in the park at the same time. Lo and I had already figured out that would do nothing but result in yelling and possibly worse (you know what severe stress can do, and even though I would have been standing or sitting right there with him, Dad being Dad he would have flipped out), and much more obviously I didn’t tell him exactly what I’d been doing before the running I didn’t tell him about either. So I stretched the truth a little and said I’d been in study group. I mean, technically I HAD been in study group…it was just a study group of two and we weren’t exactly studying classwork.

So yeah…Linda Ferris. Basically it’s just yet another example of “Jordan doesn’t care if she dies or not” that I’ve heard from shrinks all my life. But… Yeah. There you are.


	9. Lois Carver

I met Lois Carver her first day at the precinct – back when her name was Lois Johnston. I was twelve and sitting in my typical place in the break room, sitting at a table with my books and notebooks spread all around me. There had been a few females on the force, but I’d never really interacted with them.

I think Lois was having a bit of a rough day, because she came in and sank into a chair at my table, putting her head in her hands. I just watched her for a long moment before I slid out of my chair and moved to one next to her.

“Hi,” I said.

She jumped slightly – probably a little freaked out by essentially a child’s voice. “Oh,” I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she said.

I guess she thought maybe I was family of someone being questioned, or maybe filing a report.

“I’m Jordan,” I said, holding out my hand.

She half smiled at me and took my hand in hers. “It’s nice to meet you Jordan,” she said. “I’m Lois.”

“Is it your first day?” I asked.

“Not on the force, but at this precinct,” she said. “I just got a transfer over. It’s closer to my apartment and an opening came up.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” I said, unsure really of what else to say.

Lois sighed and put her head back down on her arms.

I might not know what to say in small talk with an adult (or anyone really), but this…this I could handle! I knew how to comfort!

“It’ll be ok,” I said quietly, resting my hand on her shoulder. “Whatever happened, it’ll be ok.”

She turned her head and looked at me. “Are you a psychic or something?” she asked, the beginnings of a smile at the corners of her lips.

“Nope,” I shook my head. “I just know things. I mean… Well, you didn’t kill someone did you?”

Lois laughed out loud at that. “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Well, see?” I asked, smiling at her.

“I just forgot how hard it can be starting somewhere new,” she said quietly. “How you have to start all over, no matter what your reputation was at your last place. I know guys go through it to a degree, but trust me Jordan. It’s extra hard for a woman. We have to prove ourselves even more.”

I nodded seriously, not entirely sure I believed her, but she did have more experience in life than I did.

“Who’d they put you with?” I asked, figuring maybe I could offer some advice there. I mean, I was pretty familiar with a lot of the men on the force.

“Michaelson,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously, trying to figure me out. Clearly I wasn’t just some random child waiting for a parent to finish up a statement or something.

I nodded. I didn’t know him as well as some of the other men, but I knew who he was. “He’s good,” I said. “Tough, but good.”

Lois tilted her head and looked at me. “How do you…”

“Jordan, how is homework going?” Dad asked, coming into the break room and seeing me not in my “assigned” chair.

“Good Daddy,” I said. “I was just talking to Lois.”

“Johnston, right?” Dad moved over to us, extending his hand to Lois but motioning for her to stay seated. “Detective Max Cavanaugh. I think I was out on a call when you got in. Welcome.”

Lois shook Dad’s hand. “Yes, Lois Johnston,” she said.

“I hope my daughter wasn’t bothering you,” Dad said, motioning me back to my books with his eyes.

“Not at all,” Lois said, smiling at me as I sat down guiltily. “She was trying to help me feel better about today.”

“Rough one?” Dad asked, taking the chair I’d just vacated.

 

Lois nodded. “Not case-wise,” she said. “Just all the stuff that comes with being new.”

Dad nodded. “And I’m sure being a woman doesn’t help,” he said sympathetically. “It’s not as uncommon as it was when I first started, but there are still a few old boys’ club members hanging around.” 

I couldn’t help but watch them with some interest. Was Dad flirting with Lois? I mean, not that I really had a clue what that would look like. I was only twelve. And Lois did appear to be a good deal younger than Dad. Plus there was that whole fraternization thing that was frowned upon. But…

Lois shook her head. “You’d think I’d be used to it between the Academy and then my first precinct,” she said. “Not to mention the perps.”

“Now that’s one angle I never thought of,” Dad said. “But I can see how it could work for you or against you.”

He stood up and walked towards the vending machines. “Jordan, do you want your usual crackers and soda?”

“I’m really not hungry,” I said. “But soda would be great.”

He gave me a look, but eventually nodded and got me a soda. “Would you like anything, Johnston?” he asked. I couldn’t help but smile at his choice of using her last name. Even I knew that was his way of saying she fit as far as he was concerned.

“Nah,” Lois said. “I should probably get back to my desk. But thanks.” She stood up and pushed her chair in. “Thank you, Detective Cavanaugh.”

Dad nodded, “Sure.”

Lois smiled at me. “It was nice to meet you, Jordan,” she said. “Thanks for talking to me. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

“Yeah, sure!” I said before poking my nose back in my homework.

And that was the beginning of what’s turned into one of the longest lasting friendships of my life. Lo quickly became the big sister I never had, and we’d often grab something to eat or even do some shopping when she had time off and I was out of school. Obviously nothing ever happened that way between her and Dad, but they did become good friends. And I know Dad was happy I had a female influence in my life.

We’d known each other for a couple of years when Lois met Sam Caver at an interdepartmental fire and police thing. Even as a young teenager, I could see that there was something special between them. And sure enough, within a year she had me in a bridesmaid’s dress at their wedding.

I loved hanging out at Sam and Lois’ place – and I’d often end up there when Dad was working. I know they wanted kids badly, but it just never seemed to happen. That was right at the start of the whole “let’s get a three-ring medical circus involved in our sex lives” thing, and they just decided that it wasn’t meant to be. 

Obviously being in a dual-public-servant marriage where danger is an inherent part of the job made things interesting, and there were a few anxious times when one of them was in imminent danger and the other had to wait on pins and needles. But then one day just before their fifth anniversary, Sam’s station went on a call and things went south fast. A beam fell on him, and though the doctors at the hospital did everything they could, he died.

Dad and I were right by Lois’ side throughout the whole nightmare – the vigil at the hospital, the wake, the funeral. I hadn’t really been aware of everything when Mom died, but I was hyper aware of things when Sam did. It’s hell. Plain and simple hell.

Lois was the older sister I never had. Sure she did some things like a mom would (bra shopping, explaining sex and stuff Dad tried to stumble through, getting ready for prom, and so forth), but age-wise she was my big sister. I felt like I could go to her about anything, and lord knows I did.

When Paul told me he was entering seminary – which meant the priesthood which meant I’d been dumped for God – I spent a tearful weekend at her house complete with pizza and sodas and ice cream. Dad never questioned it – I gave him the briefest outline of what had happened and he was on the phone to Lois for damage control.

After my first time, when the guy left right after he got what he wanted (even more awkward since I was at HIS apartment – he just left me there…my one little act of revenge was to leave the apartment unlocked when I left), it didn’t even occur to me to go home or anywhere other than Lo’s house. Yet again, she held me all night while I cried. She helped me see that it wasn’t my fault, that the guy was a class-A jerk, and that when the right time and person came along I would know it. There was no condemnation, no “Jordan, you should have known better”, no lectures about giving it up before marriage (let’s remember at the time I didn’t know James existed, so as far as I was concerned Mom was over 18 when she and Dad got married, and I believed that given their religious and Mom’s social background they had naturally waited). Nothing but unconditional love and comfort. She did drag me to see Dad because of Linda Ferris going missing (at the time it was “a girl running in the park”) to let him know I was ok and at her place. But she didn’t make me tell him anything. (It actually wasn’t until just a few years ago when Linda’s body turned up that he learned what really happened that night…but again, getting into another chapter.)

Lois was one of the two people I really missed and worried about while I was away in Italy. And when Dad wasn’t in his office when I got back (deciding to come back a week early), I went straight to her office. She’s the one who introduced me to Eddie Winslow. And she’s the one who saw the sparks flying. And she’s the one who helped out when we’d have dates and need to meet somewhere because Dad was going to be home. (She’s also the non-me person who yelled at Dad about the stupidity of his “no cop is good enough for my Jordan” fixation. I mean, he was a cop. So he was saying HE wouldn’t be good enough? That made no sense. But she thought it was stupid too and helped us out any way that she could,)

And she’s the one I ran to when Dad was facing Internal Affairs – and the choice of taking early retirement or being fired – hinging largely on Eddie’s testimony to them. I hurt for Dad, obviously. But I also hurt for me. I felt like Eddie had betrayed me as well, like he’d betrayed what we had, the relationship we’d developed. And I knew that no matter how much I loved him – and I did really and truly love him – there was no way I could continue a relationship with him. Even if I could sell Dad on the idea that me with a cop was not a bad thing, I could never sell him on the idea of me with the guy who had ratted him out.

So yes, my heart was broken. Lois simply curled up on the couch with me and held me while I cried for hours and hours. Every time I thought I was cried out, a new wave of tears would start. This was so beyond Ben and Jerry’s. But she never lost her patience, and she never tried to tell me it was ok or that I needed to feel anything other than what I was feeling.  
She also decreed that I was not going anywhere that night. I flipped out, so worried about Dad being alone. She got him on the phone and spoke to him before handing the phone over. Dad encouraged me to stay, to lean on a friend. He needed to prepare for what he was going to say and do, and he was worried about me enough without he wouldn’t be able to focus on what he needed to do if I was there because he would be too focused on making sure I was ok. If I was with Lois, he could focus on what he needed to focus on and know that I was safe.

After a few hours, when I was starting to get cried out but definitely getting exhausted, she kissed the top of my head. “Come on baby girl,” she said, standing up and pulling me with her. “No basement room for you tonight. My bed’s big enough for both of us.”

I started to protest, but she shook her head. “Don’t fight me Jordan,” she said. “You don’t need to be alone, and you definitely don’t need to be in a room where all your memories are tied up with someone who’s a big part of the reason you’re hurting.” (Yeah, Eddie and I had stayed there one weekend when his place was being fumigated, and again when he was between leases.)

So I nodded and walked up to her room. She pulled out some sweats and a t-shirt and handed them to me, then started a hot bubble bath. “It’ll relax you,” she said. “I’ll be downstairs for a little longer, but when you’re done go ahead and try to get some sleep.”

I nodded and headed into the bathroom, soaking in the tub for a while. When I was finished soaking and had gotten ready for bed, I went back into the bedroom. Lo came upstairs with some cocoa and to make sure I was settled. We talked a little while I sipped the cocoa, then when I lay down, she started rubbing my back to help put me to sleep. I was almost asleep when there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll be right back,” she said softly, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Try to go on to sleep.”

“Thanks Lo,” I mumbled sleepily. My eyes were starting to close at that point, so I let them and tried to just drift off. But then…

Then I heard his voice.

“I fucked up, Lois,” he said as I heard him step into the foyer. 

“Eddie, you didn’t fuck up. You did the right thing,” Lois said. I could tell from the sounds they were moving into the front room, probably to sit on the couch there and talk.

“Then why do I feel like the world’s biggest ass right now?” Eddie said.

“Oh Eddie,” Lois sighed. “I know it’s hard right now,” she said after a long pause. “But Max will understand. Eventually. Deep down he knows you were only doing what you had to.”

There was a moment of silence in which I could only assume Eddie nodded and thought for a moment. “Weirdly, I’m not as worried about Max right now,” he said, his voice dropping so I had to work to hear it.

Lois opted to stay silent – I have no clue if she nodded or signaled for him to keep going or what. But the next thing I heard further broke my already shattered heart.

“I meant… I meant Jordan,” Eddie said, his voice thick with what I could only assume was tears. “I… I…”

After a moment of silence, Lois spoke gently. “You really love her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Eddie said. “More… More than I ever thought I could love anyone. And I’ve lost her.”

“You don’t know that,” Lois said. That’s probably the only time I ever heard her lie. She knew he was right. Granted, she knew how our conversation had gone, but she also knew me almost better than I knew myself. She knew how much trouble I’d have forgiving him for this. No matter how “right” it was, it still felt like a betrayal to me.

“Lo, I love her so much,” Eddie said. “And I… God. I could have totally seen spending my life with her. Forever.”

Another moment of silence. I could only imagine Lois’ face at the moment. Eddie and I had definitely discussed marriage, even back before my residency. That’s one of the things he was clear on – he didn’t want me to have to deal with settling into a marriage and a residency at the same time. But it’s not like I would have been surprised if…

“I’d even gotten…” he said. “I was going to… We were going to have dinner with Max, and…”

“Oh Eddie,” Lois replied. I could only guess that he’d bought me a ring. I was pretty sure I knew which one as we’d looked at them on more than one occasion and there was really only one we both liked. “Just because…”

Eddie cut her off. “Lois, you know Jordan,” he said. “Even if Max sees that this was for the best…” I heard him sob, which only made my own return. “There’s no way she’ll forgive me for this.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Maybe not immediately,” Lois said softly. “But she will. One day…”

I could picture Eddie shaking his head at that. He really did know me almost better than I knew myself.

I don’t know exactly how much longer Eddie stayed for them to talk because somehow I cried myself to sleep.

I don’t know if Lois knew I overheard them – her first reply to Eddie was in a quiet voice, and he seemed to follow her lead. If I hadn’t listened hard I might have missed some of what was said. I do know that she never asked me if I’d heard anything or brought up anything that they talked about that night. She just continued to be as supportive as she could – of everyone involved.  
I know it had to have hurt her when I ran, when I left Boston. We sort of lost touch for all but very basic check-ins, but never completely lost touch, which was nice. I’m pretty sure that she didn’t know about Evelyn either, because she would have told Dad he needed to tell me. She was good about making sure I knew what I needed to know. And I know she would have put “some new woman is living in your dad’s house and I’m pretty sure she’s not renting a room” in the “Jordan needs to know” category.

It was great to see her when I did get back. And it’s been great to work with her as a detective. Yes, she has to toe the party line and act like she wants me on my side of the fence, but she doesn’t give me nearly the grief that other detectives give me about going above and beyond.

It doesn’t mean I get special treatment, but I am her de facto baby sister, and she treats me with respect.


	10. Eddie Winslow

I can pretty much guarantee you this one is going to surprise you, Stiles. The few people I’ve told about all this have pretty much had their jaws hit the floor. So…

I very, very clearly remember the day I met Eddie Winslow.

I had just gotten back to Boston after doing a spring language immersion semester in the Tuscany region of Italy. No, a language immersion semester had nothing to do with my pre-med major or my career goals of being a cardio-thoracic surgeon – but it did fulfil the language requirement in one fell swoop. And it was the compromise Dad and I came to about college. He had (of course like any parent) wanted me to have the best opportunities. I, the only child of a single-parent cop father, did not want to leave him alone (especially after the whole locking himself out of the house thing from when I was 12). So we looked into options that would make us both happy and settled on UMass Boston. In my opinion it had the added advantage of me not having to live in a dorm since they don’t have dorms. Dad wanted me to look into an apartment, but finding something safe and reasonable can be a challenge. So I lived at home and did the spring semester of my junior year abroad.

Anyway, once the semester was over and I’d said good-bye to my Italian family (and my Italian brother’s friend Paolo), Dad had scraped together enough for me to stay and play for a couple of weeks in Paris and London. After being gone for so long, I was ready to be back home, ready to see Dad. So I did like three days in Paris, three in London, and changed my plane ticket to a week earlier. I didn’t tell Dad – I figured it would be fun to surprise him.

I knew it was rare for Dad to work overnights – he had enough seniority in the department that pretty much he was only on for an overnight if they were extremely shorthanded or a case was forcing the issue – so I had the cab drop me off at the precinct. I went to Dad’s office, but he was out on a case. The desk sergeant said he would definitely be back during the afternoon, just not an exact time frame. So I headed over to see if Lois was in. I grinned when I saw her sitting at her desk and I knocked on the door frame.

“Oh my God, baby girl come here and give me a hug,” she said, jumping up and wrapping me tight in her arms. Being the closest thing I had to a second mom, though she was nowhere near old enough to be so, I’d missed Lo a lot too, so I squeezed her back. “I’m surprised Max didn’t take today off if you were coming in!”

I grinned up at her. “He doesn’t know,” I said. “He thinks it’s next week.”

“Did something happen?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just missed him and Boston and was ready to come home. So I changed my flight. Figured I’d surprise him!”

“He’ll be thrilled,” she said, setting my bags next to her desk. “Come on, I’ll get you something in the break room. I’m due for a break and we can chat for a while. Max shouldn’t be too long from what we heard earlier.”

“Yeah, that’s what Cooper said,” I said, walking with her down the hall. “So, anything new going on?”

“New class of rookies from the academy just started a couple of weeks ago,” she said. “A few more women than the last one. So far the ones we have here seem like they’re gonna be good – the men and the women.”

“Cool,” I said, loving being back in the place that was like my second home.

As we stepped into the break room, I saw Eddie Winslow for the first time when he looked up to say hi to Lois. Dark hair. Green eyes. The most beautiful eyes and smile I’d ever seen. (And no, it wasn’t just because I missed Paolo. He and I were very clear going into it that it was just a fling and nothing serious or long term.) I know it sounds way too much like a movie, but I swear to you the air took on a new charge and it seemed like time stood still for a moment. No body moved.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slight smile cross Lois’ lips and the smallest shake of her head as her eyes went from Eddie to me and back again.

“Jordan, this is Eddie Winslow,” she said. “He’s one of the rookies I was telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you… Eddie,” I said, walking to shake his hand as he stood. “Welcome to the Boston Police Department.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling and shaking my hand.

Electricity. There is no other way to describe what I felt when his hand met and closed around mine. A jolt of pure electricity. And when our eyes met, I could tell he felt it too.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said. “What do you do?”

Before I could open my mouth, Lois smiled. “Eddie, this is Jordan Cavanaugh,” she said.

I could see Eddie swallow – hard – as he let go of my hand. “Cavanaugh?” he asked. “As in Detective Cavanaugh?”

I nodded and sighed, looking over to Lois. “I thought the memo didn’t get passed around anymore,” I said, referring to the mythical letter (I never saw a physical copy of it, so I can’t verify its existence) stating that “Detective Cavanaugh’s daughter was off limits to anything in blue” or some such silliness.

“I don’t think it is,” Lois said – she’d admitted to me before that she’d never seen it either, but then again as she was female… Not that that should have been exclusionary. I mean, I could have played for the other team. “But…” she sighed. “But the message seems to get passed around no matter what. All on the QT of course. What do you want to eat?”

She’d moved to the vending machine while we were talking. I looked at the options and selected something, taking that and a soda and sitting down at the table.

I looked at Eddie and sort of rolled my eyes and shook my head. “I honestly don’t know where that whole thing got started,” I said. “Dad’s never told me I can’t go out with a cop.”

Lois chuckled. “I’m not sure it would occur to Max that you’d be interested in anyone,” she said. “I think in that sense he still thinks of you as his baby girl and why would you be interested in boys.”

I shook my head. “But I’m old enough they’d be interested in me?” I asked. “That makes no sense.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it makes sense,” Lois said. “I’m just saying what I think.”

Eddie looked between us as we spoke. “I only know what we got told off the record when we came in,” he said.

“And that included me being off-limits?” I asked, incredulous.

“Well,” Eddie said. “Not in so…”

“Jordan?!?” I heard Dad’s voice behind me and jumped up, running into his arms. “What the… I thought your flight was next week! I can’t believe I wrote it down wrong!”

I laughed and kissed him, hugging him tightly. “It was next week,” I said. “I changed it. I missed you, and I was ready to come home.”

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” Dad said, still holding me tight as neither of us was ready to let go of the other yet. “But Jordan, I wanted you to have the chance to travel. To experience other cultures.”

“Dad, I’ve been living completely immersed in another culture for four months,” I said. “We traveled around Italy – all over the place! And really, a few days in Paris and a few in London was fine. I missed Boston. I missed YOU.”

“Lois, thanks for taking care of her as long as she’s been here,” Dad said.

“It hasn’t been long,” Lois said. “We had just grabbed a snack and I was introducing her and Eddie. Since he came in while she was gone and they hadn’t met yet.”

Dad’s eyebrow raised slightly. “Ok,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Let me go and check with Sarge and see if I can use some comp time I know I’m owed. Take you home and spend the afternoon with you.”

“Sure,” I said, smiling.

“You do that,” Lois said. “Jordan and I will go and get her bags and meet you back here?”

“Sounds good,” Dad said, turning to go and request some immediate comp time.

Lois stood up quickly and pushed me back to the table. “You two talk,” she said. “I’ll go and get your bags.

“I can help,” I said, but Lois just pushed me into the chair I’d been sitting in and gave me a look.

“I’m not blind, Jordan,” she whispered, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze. Louder, she said, “Talk.”

When she had left, I looked at Eddie who seemed a little shell-shocked. To be honest, I was too. I had never felt something as strong as I felt when we were so close. “So…”

“So…” he repeated. 

We just looked at each other for a moment, then he shook his head slightly and said, “How serious is your dad about you not seeing cops?”

“Honestly?” I said, “I have no idea. I haven’t ever tested it before.”

“Would you want to?” he asked.

I looked at him for a moment.

“I mean, just dinner or… Or even just coffee or something,” he said. “I’m not suggesting…”

“Dinner would be great,” I said. “I’d like that.”

“Ok,” he said. “Um, I’m off Thursday, so that night might work. We wouldn’t have to worry about me getting caught on a case and missing it.”

“Thursday works,” I said. After all, I’d only just gotten back into town. I didn’t have any kind of job lined up yet, and I had enough names Dad knew I could say I was going to hang out with. Hey, I might not have known if the letter existed, but I didn’t want to take a chance on finding out the hard way. At least not before Eddie and I knew if there was even a reason to test it.

“Should we figure out where to go now?” Eddie asked. “And meet there or…”

“You can meet at my place,” Lois said.

We both looked up at her questioningly.

“It’s a perfect cover,” she said. “I think Max may be working second on Thursday. So he’d be out anyway, but if he’s not, he knows the friendship we have, and it would only make sense that we’d want to hang out together now that she’s back. And he knows we do ‘big and little sister night’ sometimes. It’s perfect.”

I looked over at Eddie and shrugged. “It sounds like a plan to me,” I said. “We could figure out dinner then.”

Eddie nodded. “All right,” he said. “So I’ll meet you at Lois’ house at… Does six work for you?”

“Six works fine,” I said. I smiled at Eddie and he smiled back. “It’ll be fun!”

“What will be fun?” Dad’s voice sounded across the room. I was almost afraid to look over to see his posture. How much had he heard? But he was clearly just walking into the room.

“Big and little sister night on Thursday,” Lois answered quickly.

Dad nodded. “That sounds good. I managed to get the rest of today and all day tomorrow off, but I’ll have to be back on schedule by then and I’ve got a second shift,” he said. “You ready to go home Jordan?”

“Yeah,” I said. I hugged Lois, who turned so my back was to Dad and my face was to Eddie. I grinned at him and mouthed “See you Thursday,” to which he nodded so slightly it was hard to tell if it happened at all. 

After kissing Lois’ cheek, I grabbed my backpack and went over to Dad, taking his hand. “Let’s go home,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder as we walked out the door and to the car.

If Dad picked up on anything in the room he didn’t mention it. We just slipped into our regular pattern, talking about his work, my time in Italy and other places in Europe (I did so leaving out some of the details with Paolo of course. Dad didn’t need to know absolutely everything that happened in Italy after all!)

*-*-*

Oh. A little sidebar here Howard. It just occurred to me you might not have wanted me to have actual dialogue in here. We never really discussed that. But honestly there are times that it’s just easier to do it that way. It’s got to be more interesting than reading “So he did this. And then we did that.” and so forth all the time. Right? I mean, this is MY journal after all, right? So I should be able to do it how I want. And I think I want dialogue. So like it or not Howard, you’re going to get dialogue.

*-*-*

So that Thursday, Lois and I did have big and little sister time. It just happened during the day – lunch and hanging out in the afternoon. She helped me pick out what to wear and come up with a couple of ideas for dinner that wouldn’t require reservations in case Eddie hadn’t made plans for a place. I was excited, and a little nervous, but not overly so.

At least not until I heard his car pull up and the doorbell ring.

I don’t know why I was so nervous about it – other than the fact that electricity I’d felt in the precinct break room was unlike anything I’d ever felt. While I wasn’t one who would ever admit I wanted any kind of long term relationship, I couldn’t help but feel like Eddie might just be THE ONE. (Granted, I had had all of three relationships in my life before going out with Eddie (and only two of those sexual) – one ended with the guy choosing God over me, one was just a jerk, and one was entered into knowing it was just going to be a little bit of fun – but still. They say you just know. And I was pretty sure I KNEW.)

We went to a little Italian place on the North End and then went to walk down by the river for a little while. Dinner conversation was your standard getting to know you stuff – I didn’t go into all the details about Mom. There would be time for all the details later if we even got that far. He told me about his life, about why he’d wanted to be a cop (not all that uncommon from a lot of the cops I’d known…he wanted to make a difference and felt like fighting the bad guys would be the best way he could). 

We found a bench along the walkway and sat and just talked and talked. Like, to the point of losing track of time talking. It was some of the most comfortable conversation I’d ever had, especially with a guy. And I found that for whatever reason I was able to open up to Eddie more than I usually did even much later in knowing someone. He felt safe. He felt warm. He felt like home.

And then he leaned over and kissed me.

And I kissed him back.

If things felt right before… That kiss changed things between us from just a couple of people out for dinner to a couple of people falling into a relationship that could be life changing. 

We didn’t sleep together that night. In fact, we didn’t sleep together for a couple of months. That’s how important we felt like this relationship we were building was – neither of us wanted to rush something so… something as precious and intense as we both felt it would be.

And no, we still kept everything hidden from Dad. Even though we both felt so strongly that whatever we had was precious and unlike anything else we’d ever experienced, we wanted to make sure it was solid, secure. Eddie still had that “Cavanaugh’s daughter is off-limits” thing in his head, and while I thought the memo – written or spoken – was probably a bunch of bullshit maybe started by someone I hadn’t been interested in (there were several who had shown interest from time to time, but I didn’t reciprocate the feelings), I didn’t want to take a chance on the slight possibility it was true. At least not until we were more solid.

Eddie and I went out a lot starting that summer and into my senior year. Now, the big question is how we managed to do that without Dad finding out. 

Answer? Lois. Meeting wherever we were going. Meeting at Eddie’s place. Very occasionally at my house if I knew Dad was at work and there was no chance he’d come by – but it would only be a quick pick up. Nothing ever happened at my house at first.

Not that a lot was happening early on anyway. We took our time settling into the relationship. I guess that shows the depth of what we were feeling for and with each other that we didn’t just jump into bed. We kissed a lot. We made out a lot. There was more than one occasion when we fell asleep in each other’s arms. But we’d been going out for five months before sex even entered the equation.

I think we both knew early on that this was not going to be a relationship with sex as a foundation. I think we knew it would be a part of the relationship, but it wasn’t going to be just about sex between us. Even early on, it was pretty obvious that this relationship was going to be more intense than anything either of us had ever experienced before. Granted, that’s not saying a lot for me – Eddie was only my third, and honestly I barely count my first. But Eddie – well, he’s about four years older than I am, and he was definitely more experienced in terms of relationships and sex. He never pushed me though, never tried to move things faster than I was comfortable with.

The way we held off on the sex thing, you would think we had some gorgeous, planned out, rose petals on a soft king sized bed, everything all satin and lace type thing set up. I mean, if this was Hollywood that would be the pinnacle to this whole build-up, right? 

Nope! Not for the love story of Jordan Cavanaugh and Eddie Winslow. For us it was the roof-top deck at his parents’ cottage on the Cape under the stars with the waves gently crashing in the background.

Somehow Eddie managed to get the weekend of my fall break off, and we headed out to the little ocean-front cottage his parents had on the Cape. (No, not the fancy part where Grandmother’s house (so not a “typical” beach house) was. It was in a little seaside village. The cottage was rental income for them during the season and a place where they could relax at other times.) “I’m going away with friends for break” was a perfect story and a pretty easy sell to Dad. He always worried about me being alone, and especially not living in an apartment closer to where many of my classmates lived. The fact that I’d gotten so “involved” with friends after coming back from Italy made Dad so happy. Oh he never came out and said it out loud, but I know it’s how he felt about the whole situation. And I was hanging out with friends – Lois, and Eddie, and I did have a few friends from school. So it wasn’t a total lie – I was going out to the Cape with A friend. Dad just didn’t get the specifics.

And honestly, we didn’t plan for that weekend to be THE weekend. It just sort of happened naturally. The cottage was right on the beach, and we’d spent most of Saturday (once we woke up that is) hanging out on the sand, playing in the chilly water, and then letting the sun warm us up as we basked on the towels we’d set out. We grilled out burgers for dinner, and afterwards we went up to the rooftop deck. The plan was just to watch the stars, listen to the waves, talk, cuddle, that kind of thing.

Eddie had brought some blankets up with us because it was chilly between the wind, the lack of sun, and the air coming off the water in general. We were sitting on the built-in bench, kissing and snuggling. Without words, things began ramping up. Our kisses got deeper and deeper. Our hands moved over each other’s bodies, slipping under clothes that seemed to just melt away. 

During one particularly intense kiss, Eddie half pulled and I half climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs. The kiss went even deeper and we pulled each other tighter and tighter to each other. 

Breathlessly, Eddie broke out kiss and looked into my eyes. “Jor…” he whispered, one hand reaching up to stroke my cheek, asking everything without saying a word.

I held his look for a long moment and nodded slightly, my fingers gently grazing his back and neck just how I knew he liked it. “Yes,” I whispered. “Oh god, Eddie. Yes.”

Our lips met in a deep, probing kiss, our tongues tangling as we pressed closer and closer to each other. Wrapping his arms tightly around me, Eddie stood and my legs wrapped around his waist. He moved to go inside, but I shook my head.

“Here?” I asked softly. It’s not like it was a fantasy of mine to make love under the stars with the waves in the background. I just wanted him. I needed to feel him in me. As soon as possible preferably.

Eddie looked at me. “Are you sure Jor?” he murmured. “It’s… You don’t want to go to the bedroom?”

I smiled at him and shook my head. “We’ve got blankets here. We’ve got each other…”

Whatever else I was going to say was lost in a deep kiss as he let me slide my feet to the floor so he could spread the blankets out for us. He pulled away only long enough to spread the blankets, doubling one for extra padding against the teak of the deck, then he knelt and gently laid me down on the blankets, kissing me deeply.

His touch was feather light as he traced my body with his fingers, his lips following their path. I pressed into him, my own fingers exploring his body, learning its hardness, its softness, and his ticklish spots. As I stroked his cheek, he turned and kissed my hand, drawing a finger into his mouth and gently sucking on it. First time I figured out my hands were definitely an erogenous zone for me as I nearly came off the deck at the sensation. 

He smiled and kissed me deeply as he let a gentle hand slide to my center. I pressed into his hand as my own curled around his length, gently stroking and squeezing him. “God, baby…” he moaned, his fingers gently dancing around before slowly dipping inside.

“Eddie…” I gasped, pressing further into his touch, needing to be as close to him as I could. “Please…”

He nodded and gently rolled us so he was on top of me. After a long, slow kiss, he pulled back and looked into my eyes. His tip was right outside of me, but he was going no further until he was sure it was what I wanted. I smiled up into his eyes and nodded, pressing my hips towards him, my body inviting him in. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

The word was barely out of my mouth when it was swallowed in a long, deep kiss as he slid inside of me so gently. A small moan escaped my mouth and he looked at me to make sure I was ok before he began moving slowly, gently. Our tongues mimicked our bodies as we gradually settled into a rhythm that felt like home. Not to be too sappy poetic about it, but like we’d found that missing half of ourselves. 

True, I’d only been with two other guys. And honestly I hardly count my first because it only happened once. Paolo was great, but now, with Eddie, I fully realized that it truly was just sex with Paolo – a fling between the American college student and the hot Italian guy teaching her new aspects of the language she’d gone abroad to learn.

With Eddie, all my nerve endings were at full alert. Everything felt…more. We alternately kissed and looked into each other’s eyes, our bodies speaking the words we couldn’t find. It wasn’t perfect that first time – there were certainly some fumbles. But when it was right, it was right. He held himself up with one hand and gently danced the fingers of his free hand over my body until they found their target and he began rubbing me the way I loved as he began moving faster and deeper.

“Yes, baby,” I said, pressing harder into him and gently dragging my nails down his back.

“God, Jor…” he moaned. “So good.”

I reached my head up and kissed him deeply, feeling my breathing increase as I pressed harder and harder into his body, feeling my climax building. “Harder Eddie,” I gasped. “Deeper.”

“Yes,” he moaned into my mouth, following my request as my breath caught in my throat and I pushed towards him, feeling my muscles squeeze down hard as he tensed and came deep within me before falling gently against my body.

We lay there for a few moments, the ocean breeze cooling our bodies as our breathing returned to normal. When I could think again, I turned and kissed his lips softly. “Thank you,” I whispered.  
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I should be thanking you,” he whispered back. “That was…”

“Amazing,” I finished for him.

He nodded and rolled us to our sides, making sure the blanket was covering us as he pulled me into a close embrace and kissed me. “Exactly,” he said, gently rubbing my back.

Eventually we moved to the bedroom – as romantic as the idea of falling asleep there under the stars with the waves crashing in the background sounds, the teak was hard and we both knew we wouldn’t be able to move in the morning if we stayed there. 

The rest of the break flew by, and too soon we were heading back to Boston and making plans for how to spend as much time together as possible. I know it seems weird that at that point we wouldn’t have told Dad, at least that we were dating. I don’t really know why we didn’t. It wasn’t like marriage hadn’t come up. No formal conversation about it, but we had discussed it as a possibility between us. Eddie was clear he didn’t want me to have to deal with medical school and settling into married life at the same time – he would have married me in a heartbeat, he said as much, but he knew how important being a cardio-thoracic surgeon was to me and he was afraid that if the marriage turned into a distraction and things didn’t go as well as I’d hoped… Well, he didn’t want me regretting the marriage. And honestly I didn’t want that either. But it still doesn’t explain why we didn’t tell Dad – unless we were afraid he would force the marriage issue.

There were definitely some close calls with Dad almost finding out. One was just funny and one could have been so much worse.

The funny one happened one of the times we decided to hang at my house. Dad was supposed to be working a stakeout, and we figured we’d be safe as Dad and I had a routine. He’d pop by to check in on me if he knew I was going to be home before he started, and I was supposed to put the bar lock across the door after he left. Then when he was on his way home, he’d call when he was about five or ten minutes away so I could go and take the bar lock off so his keys would let him in the house. It was perfect. Eddie parked around the corner on a street Dad never used just in case for whatever reason Dad drove by, and we figured we’d have plenty of notice that Dad was on his way Eddie could get out of there (knowing the general time he was supposed to be off, we could make sure we were awake and had his clothes ready to go). It had worked perfectly a couple of times before.

And then there was one night when for whatever reason Dad came by around 11. He had gone on a coffee run and decided to check on me. Well, he forgot about the bar lock until he couldn’t open the door, at which point we heard him yell “Jordan? Come open the door!”

Eddie clapped his hand over my mouth as I almost screamed, then released me so I could answer “Dad? What the…?” 

“Sorry sweetheart,” Dad’s voice came up the stairs. “I forgot about calling since I just decided to pop in on my way to get coffee and snacks.”

“Ok, give me a minute,” I called. “I just got out of the tub,” I added, improvising as I quickly motioned for Eddie to get in the closet with his clothes just in case Dad came upstairs. Thankfully we were in between…and just cuddling, so I was able to pretty quickly throw on some sweats and run down stairs. 

“Hi,” I said as I unfastened the bar lock and opened the door. “So you drew coffee duty?”

Dad nodded. “Yeah. And I figured I’d just check on you. Make sure you’re ok. Especially with some of the stuff that’s been going on.” I knew that the stakeout involved some pretty serious shit, so I guessed that’s what he was referring to. And by serious shit I mean mob. Whenever things involved the mob and Dad caught it, he was always more skittish where I was concerned. It didn’t take a genius to know that the easiest way to get to him would be through me. All the cops were more edgy about the safety of their families when the mob was involved.

I hugged him and nodded. “Yep,” I said. “I’m fine. Just studying for my anatomy test tomorrow. I’d taken a tub break just before you yelled.” (What? I was studying anatomy. Just a very specific someone’s anatomy.) I went over to the cabinet and pulled out the cookie jar. “Why don’t you take these with you?” I asked, handing him the chocolate chip cookies I’d made earlier that day.

Dad nodded. “That sounds great,” he said. “Thanks sweetheart.” He leafed through the mail, then hugged me close. “Ok baby,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to studying.”

“Thanks Dad,” I said, hugging him close. “Be safe.”

“I will baby,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “You know the drill. I’ll call when I’m on my way home. We’re only about ten minutes away tonight.”

“Ok,” I nodded. I hugged and kissed him again, then he headed out and I locked the bar lock. I watched him drive away and waited a couple of minutes just to be safe before going upstairs and freeing Eddie from my closet, giggling. “That was…”

“A little too close for comfort,” Eddie finished, wrapping me in his arms and buzzing kisses along my cheek as he carried me back over to my bed. “Anatomy, huh?” he laughed as we tumbled onto the mattress.

“Well, I AM studying anatomy right now,” I giggled. “Yours.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed before leaning forward and capturing my lips in a deep kiss. “Well, maybe you should study a little more,” he whispered conspiratorially.

“Probably so,” I said, kissing him before I slid under the sheets.

That was the funny one. Honestly. We both laughed about that for a long time, especially when we looked at my closet door.

The not funny one got us a lot closer to Dad figuring out what was going on. 

It was the summer between my first two years at medical school. I’d slept in – hey, when you’re a med student you get sleep while you can – and had gone to meet Dad at the precinct to grab lunch. We were about to leave when an officer down call came in.

I swear my heart stopped for a minute when I heard Eddie’s unit number given. Somehow I managed to compose my face in a second because Dad looked at me and said “Do you mind if we forego lunch to go…?”

The first unit was quickly followed by another – Lois’ unit. That was major mixed feelings because I was feeling a little relieved that it might not be Eddie, but also a little scared that it might be Lois.

I didn’t trust myself to speak at first, so I just nodded, then finally managed “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

We drove over to Boston University Medical Center and quickly found where the officers were gathered. Lois was standing there, so I initially breathed a sigh of relief, but my breath caught in my throat when I saw who wasn’t among the crowd gathered in the waiting room. Lo quickly came over to me and Dad.

“Glad you’re ok,” Dad said, hugging Lois quickly. “Who was it?” (For a detective, sometimes his powers of observation weren’t so keen.)

Lois wrapped me in her arms as she quietly said “Winslow. But they think he’s going to be ok. It looks like one hit his vest – so probably a cracked rib there – and the other looks to be a through and through to his arm.”

I choked back a sob as I buried my face in Lois’ chest. She rubbed my back gently, whispering to me “He’s gonna be ok Jordan. You have to believe that.” A little louder she said “I know honey. I was scared too. But I’m fine.”

She was totally covering for me, knowing that we hadn’t told Dad yet. And in that waiting room at that time was NOT the time to have the “Oh by the way, Dad…” conversation.

We joined all the other officers waiting for word. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor came out and gave us the news (clearly before HIPPA was in effect.) Eddie would be ok. He did have a cracked rib, and the bullet narrowly missed some major arteries, but it had been a clean through and through shot and though he was in pain, ultimately he would be ok. 

The others went one by one or in pairs to check on him in person, and soon it was Dad, Lo, her partner, and me left in the room, Eddie’s partner had gone to the precinct to file his report. Then Elroy, Lois’ partner said he was going to go outside for a smoke. Lois could tell I wanted to see him badly. I needed to see him, to see for myself he was ok. She left us for a moment to go and check on him, then came back and suggested she take Dad to get some coffee.

“Come on, Max,” she said. “If I’m gonna scare you to death like that, the least I can do is buy you some coffee.” She knew Dad considered her almost like another daughter. It was HER unit number that made him sure we needed to come over.

Dad slowly nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Jordan, do you want to…”

“It’s ok,” I said. “I’ll stay here. Maybe go say hi to Eddie.”

Dad nodded. “Ok baby,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “We’ll be right back.”

Lois winked at me over Dad’s shoulder as they left the waiting room, and I gave them a few seconds before getting up and going to Eddie’s room.

He was sitting up and awake when I opened the door. I had been fighting tears since we heard the call come in, and seeing him there, alive and going to be ok, they finally fell from my eyes.  
“Come here baby,” Eddie said gently, holding his uninjured arm open for me.

I went over to the bed and started to sit in the chair when he shook his head. “I don’t care if I get in trouble,” he said. “I need to hold you. And it looks like you need to be held.” 

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I carefully slid onto the bed next to him, being careful to avoid wrapping my arm around his chest where the bandages were. I buried my face in his shoulder as I sobbed.

“I’m ok baby,” he whispered, kissing my head. I wasn’t looking at him, but I knew there were tears falling from his eyes as well – I could feel them hitting my head.

I tilted my face to his and we kissed softly, his hand rubbing my back and mine stroking his face. “I was so…” I stammered. “When I heard ‘officer down’ my blood just… It just ran cold. Like I knew.”

Eddie kissed my forehead. “Oh baby,” he murmured before kissing my lips gently.

“And then when the unit came through…” I shook my head. “If I hadn’t been sitting down…”

“Did Max figure it out?” Eddie asked softly. “I mean, he didn’t say anything when he came in, but…”

I shook my head. “No. Because by the time he figured out I’d sunk into a chair, Lo’s unit had been called out as well, so I think he figured it was that unit number that sent me into the chair.”  
Eddie nodded and pulled me close, resting his chin on my head. “You know,” he said softly. “Maybe it’s time we told him.”

I started to answer when I heard a tap on the door and saw Lo passing by. “Yeah,” I said, kissing Eddie softly. “Maybe, but I’d better go unless you want to have a reason to stay in here longer.”

He half-chuckled. “Maybe smart,” he said. “But soon?”

“Soon,” I said, kissing him gently again as I slid off the bed and headed to the door. “See you later.”

“Later Jor,” Eddie said, blowing me a kiss as I walked into the hall.

I walked into the waiting room and went into Lois’ arms. “He seems to be ok,” I said. “I’m glad. He seems like a cool guy.”

Dad chuckled. “Yeah, he is. Let’s go get some dinner.”

So we survived that narrow escape, but somehow the timing and circumstances never seemed to work out to tell Dad. And then it wasn’t long until I was into my third year and thinking residency. Eddie was working hard to make detective. And slowly we just stopped seeing each other as much. 

We never officially broke up. It was just one of those things with schedules and stuff getting in the way. I know I never saw anyone else. And I’m almost one hundred percent sure that he never saw anyone else either.

When I almost… When I had that scotch and pill incident, he came to see me in the hospital. Not when Dad was there obviously. But he came. He held me while I cried. He kissed me and told me it would be ok. Whatever I decided to do. 

When what I decided to do was work at the Medical Examiner’s office, Eddie passed his detective’s test and got promoted. We started going out again, and it was clear that what we had the first time around wasn’t just a fluke. Everything was going great, and we were beginning to think we should go public. And then Eddie got his partner assignment.

Dad.

Yeah… That was definitely going to throw a wrench into things. Because obviously as partners they were going to have the same schedule. We managed to spend as much time together as we could. The fact that I had my own apartment helped a bit in that we had three places to hang – Eddie’s place, my place, and Lois’ place (she still let us use it because it was closer to the precinct, so if we were short on time… Yeah…).

We talked about it and decided it was time to tell him. There were too many close calls, and since they were partners… It only made sense to tell him. I’d suggested dinner to Dad on a night I knew they were off. Eddie was going to join us, and we were going to tell him then (and I have good reason to believe he was going to give me a ring then as well). And then…

Dad had been pushing the limits for a while. I knew it, no matter how much he tried to hide it. But then one day he came by the morgue to tell me he had been put on “administrative leave” while an investigation went on. It seems he had beaten a suspect in a drug deal. Bad enough that the guy was in the hospital. Oh he was going to survive, and he gave up the name of a serial rapist. But he had single-handedly beaten the guy bad enough he landed in the hospital.

Internal Affairs was investigating him. And things honestly didn’t look good. I love my dad… And I know that he meant well. He said more than once that after mom… After mom he swore to himself that he was coming home to me, whatever it took. I just never realized he actually meant he would risk his entire career like that. And this case didn’t even involve me – other than the fact that I’m female, and I potentially could have been a victim of the rapist he ended up putting away (the “coerced” fingering not withstanding).

It was bad enough that Dad was on leave and facing being forced into early retirement (at best). But then Eddie called and asked if we could have dinner that night. Internal Affairs had come to him, asking him what he saw. He wanted me to know before I heard it from someone else – from Dad.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had been around the police department long enough to know how it worked. When a cop went “bad” or at best “rogue” and Internal Affairs got involved, they would inevitably go to the partner to see what he or she saw. To see if the partner was involved.

Eddie didn’t tell me what he was going to do. He didn’t have to. I knew him about as well as I knew myself. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t tell the truth. And true there was nothing saying that the worst (or best option of the worst) would happen to him, but enough shit had gone down recently, I didn’t hold out much hope.

The next day, the day I knew Eddie was going to talk to Internal Affairs, I was like a cat on a hot tin roof waiting to hear from Dad. Granted, there was no guarantee that things would go bad, but… I knew Eddie. And how honest he was.

I wish I could say I was surprised when Dad knocked on the door to my office, but I wasn’t. He didn’t have to say anything. I went over and held him as close as I could, as tight as I could.

“I messed up Jordan,” he said, his voice breaking. “I… I…”

“Dad, it’ll be ok,” I said, not knowing that it would, but feeling like I needed to say something.

“No. I screwed up, Jordan,” he said. “I… I made a mistake. I went too far.”

I led him over to the couch. “I’ve been given the option to take early retirement and keep some benefits or they’ll fire me and I’ll lose everything,” he said.

“Dad…” I said, feeling like I was going to be sick.

“I’m taking Door Number One,” Dad said. “It’s… It’s for the best.”

“If you think that’s what you can live with,” I said, swallowing hard. Being a cop was Dad’s life. 

“I don’t have a choice, Jordan,” he said, choking back tears.

I nodded and said, “Give me a minute.” I went down to Garret’s office and asked if I could take the rest of the day off, giving him the briefest of outlines. He said I could, so I went and collected Dad. “Come on. We’re going home.”

“Jordan, you can’t…” he said.

“Yes. I can,” I said, hugging him. “Let’s go home.”

We went home and I got Dad settled, then asked him if it was ok, if he’d be ok if I went over to Lois’ place to talk to her. I knew she couldn’t change anything, but she was a friendly pair of ears for me anyway, and a strong pair of arms. He agreed, knowing I needed someone to talk to, even if he didn’t know the full extent as to why.

I opted to run over to her place and fell into her arms as soon as she opened the door. I couldn’t hold back my sobs any longer.

“I‘ve got you baby girl,” she said, hugging me close and rubbing my back. She guided us to the couch in the living room and just held me while I sobbed. “I’ve got you.”

After what seemed like an eternity, I looked up. “He… He…” I couldn’t make my mouth form the words. Deep down I knew Eddie had done the right thing – the only thing he could without risking his job, or not being able to live with himself. Yes, I was worried about Dad, about what this would do to him, what he’d do now. But my heart was also broken. 

I truly loved Eddie and had trusted him with every fiber of my being. Even knowing in my heart of hearts that telling Internal Affairs the truth was the right thing to do – and the only thing he could do without jeopardizing his own career – it cut me to the core knowing that it was one man I loved deeply against another man I loved deeply. And I knew that even if I somehow found a way to look past what Eddie had done, there was absolutely no way I could stay with him and maintain a relationship with Dad. Talk about a Romeo and Juliet scenario… 

Lois kissed the top of my head and continued to rub my back. “He’ll be ok, Jordan,” she said, assuming that my tears at the moment were all for Dad and my worry about him in light of everything.

“Will he?” I asked, her question shifting my attention from what Eddie had done back to my dad, just as she assumed I was thinking anyway. Back to what this was going to do to him. Being a cop was his life. He didn’t know anything else. He had no training for anything else.

Lois nodded. “He’s taking the early retirement, right?” she asked.

I nodded.

“So financially he’ll be ok,” she said. “If he wants to work, there are private security firms. There are other places…”

I nodded and rested my head on Lois’ shoulder, my arms wrapped around her waist and my legs tucked under me. “I know he will in the end,” I said quietly. 

After a long moment of silence, I sighed and looked up at her. “What am I gonna do, Lo?” I asked her quietly.

“You mean about Eddie?” she asked, stroking my back.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “We were going to tell him. Next week. We were all going out to dinner.” I stopped and swallowed hard. “Well, Dad thought it was going to be just me and him. He didn’t know Eddie was going to come. I… I guess that’s not happening now.”

Lois sighed and hugged me tighter. “This doesn’t have to be the end of you two,” she said softly.

“Lo, how can you say that?” I asked, pulling away from her hug and looking at her incredulously. “He ratted Dad out!”

“Didn’t you just say maybe it’s a good thing though?” Lois asked gently.

“Well, it might be,” I said. “But even if Dad can see it as that – even if I can see it as that – this soon… Can you imagine Dad’s reaction when I told him? And what would I say anyway? ‘Oh, by the way Dad, I’ve been not just dating but also screwing the guy who just ratted you out. For the past 4 years more or less.’ That would go over real well.”

Lois couldn’t help but chuckle at my quip. “Yeah…” she said. “That could be a little…”

“Lo, it would be awkward under the best of circumstances,” I said. “But now…”

And I dissolved in tears again. To her credit, Lois didn’t try to talk me into anything one way or another. She just held me and let me cry.

“Did Max know where you were going?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” I said between sobs. 

“Did you say a specific time you’d be home?”

“No,” I said. “I just told him I was coming over here.”

Lois nodded. “Let me give him a call. Make sure he’s doing ok,” she said. “It’s gotten too dark for you to run back there, so if he needs you, I’ll take you home. Otherwise, you can stay over tonight.”

“But Lo…” I started. The only place I’d stayed over was the downstairs room. Where Eddie and I had stayed over more than once just for convenience’s sake. I was in no mood to go down there right now.

“You’re staying with me,” she said. “Upstairs. Big and Little Sis sleepover tonight,” she added with a grin.

She picked up the phone and called Dad. After checking in with him and reassuring him I was generally ok, she hung up. “It’s fine with him,” she said. “He actually was glad that you’ve got someone to lean on right now.”

I just wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder. After several minutes of just rubbing my back, Lo kissed the top of my head. “Come on baby girl,” she said softly. “Let’s get you settled into bed.”

No sooner had she settled me onto one side of the king bed in her bedroom (“You clearly don’t need to be alone,” she said. “This will be easier all around. Especially if they…” I nodded, knowing that she understood that stress would sometimes trigger my nightmares.) than there was a knock at her door.

“I’ll be back baby,” Lo said, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Try and get some sleep.”

I nodded and snuggled under the covers, determined to try and get some sleep. That determination quickly disappeared when I heard his voice.

Eddie was the person at the door.

“I fucked up, Lois,” he said as I heard him step into the foyer. 

“Eddie, you didn’t fuck up. You did the right thing,” Lois said. I could tell from the sounds they were moving into the front room, probably to sit on the couch there and talk.

“Then why do I feel like the world’s biggest ass right now?” Eddie said.

“Oh Eddie,” Lois sighed. “I know it’s hard right now,” she said after a long pause. “But Max will understand. Eventually. Deep down he knows you were only doing what you had to.”

There was a moment of silence in which I could only assume Eddie nodded and thought for a moment. “Weirdly, I’m not as worried about Max right now,” he said, his voice dropping so I had to work to hear it.

Lois opted to stay silent – I have no clue if she nodded or signaled for him to keep going or what. But the next thing I heard further broke my already shattered heart.

“I meant… I meant Jordan,” Eddie said, his voice thick with what I could only assume was tears. “I… I…”

After a moment of silence, Lois spoke gently. “You really love her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Eddie said. “More… More than I ever thought I could love anyone. And I’ve lost her.”

“You don’t know that,” Lois said. Lies! She knew he was right. Granted, she knew how our conversation had gone, but she also knew me almost better than I knew myself. She knew how much trouble I’d have forgiving him for this. No matter how “right” it was, it still felt like a betrayal to me.

“Lo, I love her so much,” Eddie said. “And I… God. I could have totally seen spending my life with her. Forever.”

Another moment of silence. I could only imagine Lois’ face at the moment. Eddie and I had definitely discussed marriage, even back before my residency. That’s one of the things he was clear on – he didn’t want me to have to deal with settling into a marriage and a residency at the same time. But it’s not like I would have been surprised if…

“I’d even gotten…” he said. “I was going to… We were going to have dinner with Max, and…”

“Oh Eddie,” Lois replied. I could only guess that he’d bought me a ring. I was pretty sure I knew which one as we’d looked at them on more than one occasion and there was really only one we both liked. “Just because…”

Eddie cut her off. “Lois, you know Jordan,” he said. “Even if Max sees that this was for the best…” I heard him sob, which only made my own return. “There’s no way she’ll forgive me for this.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Maybe not immediately,” Lois said softly. “But she will. One day…”

I could picture Eddie shaking his head at that. He really did know me almost better than I knew myself.

They talked for a while longer. I’m not sure how long because I cried myself to sleep before he left. But yeah… The next time I saw him, I couldn’t say anything. 

To his credit, he tried. I was getting some coffee while I was on a break and he walked in. We just looked at each other for a moment, and he started to hold out his hand. “Jor… Let me…” he started.

To my credit, I didn’t throw my coffee in his face – or even on him. But I couldn’t say anything. I just bit my lip and bolted, running back to the morgue and locking myself in a stall in the bathroom, letting the tears come again. As much as I hated to admit it, Eddie had done the one thing I never thought possible – he’d gotten through my walls and into my heart. And he’d broken my heart more than anything besides Mom’s murder had.

Things were never the same between us after that as long as I was in Boston.

When I came back nine years later, it took a few cases before we would up working on one together. When I heard he had made lieutenant, I couldn’t help but take a dig at him. I mean, he’s good, but who knows. He probably would have made it anyway. 

We somehow found this uneasy truce so that we could work together without killing each other. And then the Donnelly case happened.

I got called out to the scene of a fire where there was a body. The identification on it, the clothes such as we could determine in the charred remains, everything identified the body as that of Jimmy Donnelly. A childhood friend of mine who grew up to be a firefighter. I almost lost it when I saw the ID on the body. When you work in your hometown, you have to think that one day… But for it to be your childhood best friend… To his credit, Eddie was great in the moment, helping me get outside (especially after I said something about the fumes). Working the case… Well…

The deeper we got into the case, we ultimately figured out that it wasn’t Jimmy who died. Blackie Conroy and his mob were involved. Jimmy had been setting fires at Blackie’s command. He had never hurt anyone until that night. When I figured out the body wasn’t Jimmy’s, I knew I had to tell Eddie. So then it became a search for this guy who had been presumed dead – complete with a wake and everything.

After I thought about it for a while, I realized I knew where he’d go, so I went there, hoping I was right. I told him I understood what he was up against, but I had to turn him in. He told me he knew – and then asked me to give him a head start. It’s something I’d always done when we were kids. He was a little younger than me, but neither of us had moms. When we’d race in the streets, I’d always give him a head start.

Now I had a little bit of an idea of how Eddie felt when he had to talk to Internal Affairs about Dad. It’s not easy ratting out someone you care about, even if you know you have to. I told Jimmy I’d give him 30 minutes. Then I called Eddie and told him the last place I’d seen Jimmy. When I got to the precinct, Eddie quietly smiled at me and said he understood just how hard what I’d done was for me because he knew how I felt about rats. Then he closed the door and said that somehow the message never got conveyed to others. 

I just looked at him for a moment, then nodded and smiled. “You know,” I said softly, “My dad forgave you long ago. I’m the one who’s held onto it. Maybe…maybe it’s time to let some things go.”

It’s progress anyway.


	11. Dr. Elliot McCafferty

Dr. Elliot McCafferty. The head of the cardio-thoracic surgery team at Boston University Medical Center. Hell, one of the best C-T surgeons in the country.

And I got picked to be on his team during my residency.

Oh, I worked my ass off for it, don’t get me wrong. Studied like hell while I was in school, worked longer and harder during my initial residency before we got to the specialties, studied my ass off about the cases we’d be talking on rounds when I knew I’d be doing them with him. I wanted to be the best, so I needed to learn from the best.

The day he told me I’d be scrubbing with him on a surgery the following day was just about the best day of my life. I stayed up studying the files, memorizing every aspect of the case. By god, I was going to be ready.

And then the surgery started. I didn’t get to do a lot until he needed someone to hold her heart. And he looked right at me. I couldn’t believe I was holding a live human being’s heart in my hands – so much different than the dissections and studies we’d done in gross anatomy. There was nothing like it.

Until something went wrong. I was pretty sure he was going to be dealing with an artery that was way too weak to support what he was trying to do. But when he called my lack of experience, I shut up.

She died on the table.

I remember standing just behind him as he talked to her husband. He said that he’d done everything he could. I thought I knew better, but who was I to question a great surgeon like Elliot McCafferty when I was just a lowly resident?

Well, enter this walking corpse from the morgue who was doing an investigation. He knew we would be having a morbidity and mortality conference to discuss the case, and he was trying to encourage me to tell the truth about what I saw.

But really, what did I see? Yes, I’d studied the files and was pretty confident in my reasons for having some doubts, but. But I was just a resident. And I’d been dreaming of being a heart surgeon for so long – ever since Granddaddy Cavanaugh died of a heart attack when I was 12… I tried to find the courage to tell what I thought I’d seen. But that morning, with him sitting there staring at me… I couldn’t do it. I said I thought he was right.

I felt like absolute shit about it. I went to talk to Dad at work when I was on a break. I ran through it, and before I even got to my doubts, he looked at me. 

“But you’re not sure.”

See? Dad always knew me better than I knew myself. (Yet another reason I don’t really think we need to run the DNA…but that’s another story.)

I tossed and turned that night, trying to figure out what I’d really seen. Every time I closed my eyes and tried to picture it, I kept seeing the same thing – McCafferty going for an artery that was too weak to support the work. By the time the sun started reflecting off the buildings across the street and into my bedroom, I knew what I had to do.

As soon as I got to the hospital, I went to talk to the chief. I told him what I’d seen. And that I knew it wasn’t right, but I’d been too intimidated in the conference. He listened to me carefully, then I saw him pick up the phone and request the files. He thanked me for coming forward and released me to go about what I needed to do.

I didn’t know what happened until I got paged. To McCafferty’s office. Stat.

“You little prima donna,” he hissed at me. “You really think you know better than me what should go on in there?”

I couldn’t speak.

He proceeded to inform me that the residency program was finding itself over budget. By one resident. And since I’d been the last one brought on… And then he went on to tell me I shouldn’t bother applying to any other programs, because they would definitely call him for a reference – and I couldn’t possibly imagine he’d have good things to say.

I was at a total loss. I went home, not knowing what else to do. Dad tried to be helpful, but he didn’t get it. With McCafferty blacklisting me, I’d have to train in Bolivia if I wanted to train as a C-T surgeon! That would be when I swallowed a handful of my sleeping pills with scotch.

I still maintain I wasn’t really intending anything; I honestly don’t remember consciously saying “Ok, take all your pills. And if it’s with scotch, bonus!”

But it happened. And man did the effects come on fast. I didn’t even make it away from the table before collapsing.

Obviously Dad called 911 and I was rushed to the hospital. Boston U Med Center of course. (Insert eye roll here.)

And guess who was on and was the doctor to work on me.

Yep. McCafferty.

Oh the irony.

To his credit, he wouldn’t let me go. I coded at least once, and he shocked me back, one of the nurses later said he was muttering something about where was that spunk he hated so much.

When Dad realized who was working on me, obviously he wasn’t thrilled. He told me later he pretty much threatened McCafferty that he’d better save me.

Obviously he did. After Dad yelled at me for the first time about it (ok, so it wasn’t yelling, but with the headache I had it seemed like it), McCafferty came in to check on me, and he wanted to talk.

“So I understand I should thank you for saving my life,” I said while he looked over my chart.

“You fought like hell to live,” he said, snapping it closed.

And then he actually had the audacity to offer me my position back. Like my little pill and scotch adventure had been a cry to get it back. As if I even knew he’d be the one working on me.

But even with all of that, one thing was clear. I didn’t want to turn into him.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You’re turning me down?”

“Yeah. I am.”

And that was pretty much the last time I saw him. At least until that day we got a call about a doctor who’d dropped dead in the operating room at Boston U Med Center. I took the call. 

Nothing makes you think like doing the autopsy on the guy who for better or worse set your life on the path it’s on.


	12. Garret Macy

Wow. I mean, where do I even start with discussing Garret and how he’s affected my life? I guess the beginning is as good a place as any.

I first met Garret when he was doing an investigation on the death of the woman I’d been in the operating room with for her husband. He suspected medical mistake, and was trying to help the husband build a case. I’d gone outside to grab a cigarette while I had a couple of minutes free.

“Why don’t you suck on a tailpipe,” a voice said. “It’ll kill you faster.”

Funny how you never forget the first words someone who changes your life says to you.

Even then there was a banter back and forth. He was pushing me to tell what I’d really seen. I was bugging him about not being a real doctor. It didn’t look like anything would ever come of our relationship but aggravation over cases where he’d push the hospital to admit things were wrong. And yet…

Even as I was turning McCafferty down, I guess part of me was wondering… I saw how he was with the husband. And how he really was just seeking answers…the truth. 

When I was released from the hospital after the scotch and pills thing (hey, don’t judge me…I didn’t intentionally do it that I’m aware of, therefore I refuse to call it a suicide attempt), and after Dad let me out of his sight (regardless of what I called it, I know all he could think was I’d tried to kill myself and what could he have done to help me or prevent it… Which… No…it can’t…), for some reason I decided to go and see Macy in his natural environment.

I remember leaning up against his door frame. I told him I’d quit. And given up smoking. I have no clue why I decided to just put it out there, but I did.

He said he doubted I’d be interested, but there was an opening. I asked him if he was serious. He said he knew it wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it was good and honest. And for me to consider it. He thought I might “liven up the joint”.

If he only knew.

Obviously I took the job. I think…no, I know there was something about the chance to find the answers families needed, to be able to speak for the dead. It intrigued me. It felt like the right fit.

Oh, not to say everything was perfect. He took to calling me Nancy Drew pretty early on in our working relationship. But we also developed this…I don’t know. It seems like more than a brother and sister relationship, but less than a romantic relationship. We just get each other – and we call each other out when we see shenanigans.

Not to say he knows everything about me. He never knew about the affair I had. The one that sent me running the first time. He just knew I ran – but after the fact. I put my letter of resignation in the mail.

And yet even after all that, he called me when I was in Los Angeles. In an anger management class actually (kicked my then boss in the cojones…don’t ever ask my inane, patronizing questions when I’m holding someone’s brain in my hands, ok?). Told me there was a spot and he needed me back in Boston.

I didn’t know he was essentially putting his job on the line to get me back. It was obvious when I got back Grace Yakura was anything but supportive. But then she left and Garret became Chief Medical Examiner, and he didn’t have to justify me to anyone in the office. 

I don’t mean to give him an ulcer with everything I do. It just seems to happen. But in my defense, he knew good and well what he was getting in that respect when he brought me back.

And not just my drive to find the answers. But my crazy side. He’d seen a little of it before, and he had a taste. But I don’t think even he was prepared for what happened with the whole Redding case and how it would set me off. (Actually the initial case had nothing to do with Redding…he was just a little side “bonus”…and everyone around me was collateral damage).

But no matter how crazy I get, no matter how far into the deep end I am, Garret always manages to pull me back. He somehow manages to ground me. And he’s said on more than one occasion essentially that I do the same for him. 

“I don’t know why I needed you back, but I did,” he said one night shortly after I came back and we were standing looking out the window over the light-speckled city.

And yet he couldn’t even back me with Child Protective Services when I applied to by Kayla’s foster mother. That one stung. All the faith in me he has with everything else, all the growing he’s said I’ve done. And all I get from him is “Are you sure this is the right thing? Not just for her but for you?”

And then even better was this gem. “You are not temperamentally suited to motherhood.”

Ouch.

Ok, whatever he said ended up being a moot point anyway. Turns out her mother wasn’t dead but had been dealing with beating an addiction. She came back and wanted another chance. And in most cases, biology is going to win out.

But for most things I’ve done, Garret’s always had my back.

Which is why it killed me so much when I discovered he was drinking. Not just after work (lord knows the DUI proved that, and we’d certainly had a drink AFTER work before) but he was drinking AT work. When I picked up that coffee mug and took a tiny sip… part of me died a little in that moment.

My heart broke a little that day – much like when a child discovers her parents aren’t perfect. Not that Garret’s like a Dad to me…the age difference doesn’t work. But it’s similar.  
Of course, I did contribute to him falling in the eyes of his own child. I saw Abby when I went in to read him the riot act. But… I don’t know… I guess I thought maybe her hearing it, maybe him seeing her face… Maybe that would be enough to snap him into reality.

And then the trial… I was prepared to get around it, I’d figured out how to not perjure myself OR do damage to Garret for any question. Any question that is but THAT one.

“Doctor Cavanaugh, have you ever seen Doctor Macy take a drink at work?”

No matter what I wanted to do, there was no way to say anything other than yes without perjuring myself – which would have actually made things even worse for our office. It was bad enough that all of Garret’s cases had been called into question. If I’d been found to perjure myself, all of my cases would have been called into question as well.

Even after all that, somehow we’ve still been able to be friends. We’ve come through it ok, and Garret’s still been by my side.

Hell, he was my Line 29 when I had surgery.

Oh that was hell and then some. When Woody and I were working a case that ended up getting pretty much a whole building quarantined, I started not feeling well. Double vision. Weakness in my hand. Dizziness. Enough different that I knew I hadn’t contracted what they had. I know Woody knew something was wrong, but I think he thought I was just getting sick too.

When I got back to the morgue, I took a scan of my head. I knew what I was looking at as soon as I saw it. But I wanted another opinion. Without going to the doctor. Yet. I knew that would have to come.

“Do you mind taking a look at this? I just want to make sure I’m seeing it right,” I asked him, somehow managing to keep my voice from shaking.

He nodded and studied the image of my scan. Then he said exactly what I’d thought the moment I saw it. “Meningioma. Benign – something that size isn’t going to be malignant,” he looked at me. “What did she die of?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said, somehow managing to play it off like it really was a body I was working on.

Of course, it didn’t take long for him to figure it out. And he kept after me and after me to get the surgery done. It’s real easy to give advice like that when you’re not the one going under the knife. He finally said he was taking me off the schedule – he wasn’t going to let me work in his morgue like that. 

He was in pretty much constant contact with my doctor about my condition. Luckily no name was ever given. Although that did contribute to Bug and Nigel thinking Garret was the one with the meningioma.

I kept hanging out, doing paperwork and so forth. And then I had a seizure in autopsy – not while I was doing one. I was looking at something else. Garret was there. As was Woody and Nigel. Garret knew what was going on. Nigel figured it out based on what he knew from breaking into Garret’s email. Woody was clueless but freaked out.

Obviously after that I didn’t have much of a choice. I was scared to do it of course. Hell, the thing was wrapped around my carotid artery. One slip and I was dead or a vegetable for the rest of my life.

But I knew it had to be done. As scared as I was, it had to be done.

Garret took me to St. Agnes and stayed with me until they came to take me back – well, actually to the doors where he couldn’t come back. I told him he was my person on Line 29. That would basically be the power of attorney. He asked if I didn’t want that to be Max, and by the way where was Max while we were discussing it. (We weren’t exactly in touch at the moment, and I didn’t want him haunting the halls and making everyone around a nervous wreck – and I definitely didn’t need the stress after surgery…assuming I was making it out of surgery.) I told him if things went south, to try to get a plot close to Mom’s in St. Anne’s Cemetery. 

I found out later that about eight hours into surgery, he went back because he wasn’t hearing anything after they’d let him know that there was extra bleeding they were working on trying to stop. He yelled at the person who tried to kick him out that he WAS a doctor (neglecting to add the medical examiner bit). 

As it turns out part of the meningioma was too entangled with my carotid for them to remove it, so that means I get to live with it for the rest of my life. It may never grow larger than it is now, and I may never have any more symptoms. I may never have any more seizures, or I could have a seizure tomorrow. There’s no way to know.

But to his credit, once I was out of the “must be babysat post-surgery” phase, Gar has treated me pretty much as normal.

Of course, then there was the crash.

The ghost ship – Kate was heading up the D-Mort team (and yes, I discussed that rather loudly with Garret…he basically pulled rank for about the first time in our relationship and said yes, she was running it and I was going to deal with it). We did the recovery and loaded the bodies onto the transport plane.

And then the storm took us off course.

And then we lost an engine. And the second.

And crashed in the mountains where there was no cell service. And since we were so far off course…but we thought we’d be ok with that until we discovered the tracker destroyed.

Bug and Nigel worked to try to rig something up while we tried to keep the fire going and keep things as under control as we could.

Kate took charge of the little food we had – as she said “Everyone hates me anyway, so it makes it easier.”

We thought Nigel had the worst of the injuries with a broken arm, but…

Garret had internal injuries – correctly self-diagnosed as spleen – that were causing internal bleeding. I swear my heart stopped when he said “internal bleeding”. I did NOT want to watch my best friend and mentor die in front of me…but at the same time I couldn’t abandon him either.

We talked a little, and when I apologized for freaking out at him for newcomer Kate being made the head of the D-Mort team, he told me why he hadn’t picked me. He said that as much of a pain as I could be always pushing for answers, always pushing the edges, I made them all better.

Very weird way to compliment me, but I’ll take it.

Obviously we ended up being rescued (you’ll get more of that in another “chapter” so just chill) as I’m here writing this. And torturing you twice a week not counting your mandated sessions.

Now…I guess I should discuss the elephant in the room.

Romance. Is there or has there ever been anything romantic between us?

Well…

The topic has come up before. And I’m sure rumors have made the rounds. Lord knows we’ve crashed in each other’s offices enough, had enough dinners out… Tongues are going to wag, especially in the morgue.

But…

Ok, so we have come close. Garret brought up the subject one time, not too long after I’d come back. Someone made some snide sotto voce comment when they didn’t think we’d hear. I guess I can understand – I freely admit I don’t have the most stellar of track records, and suddenly I’m back working in the morgue and he’s the one who fought for me to come back.

He pulled his “I needed you back here. Don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t, but…” thing once too many times, and I called him on it.

“No Gar,” I said, closing the door to his office. “I need you to explain it.”

“You’re complaining that I brought you back?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “But I think I have the right to know the why.”

He took a deep breath and then suggested we discuss it elsewhere. We decided on grabbing a pizza and meeting at my place. That should have been my first clue – he wanted to make sure I felt comfortable.

I finished up my stuff for the day and headed home to get cleaned up, changed, relaxed…all that stuff. He was going to come by later with pizza.

And he did.

We hugged like we always did, then went over to the island to put the pizza down and get slices on our plates. I hopped up on the end of the island to eat and he was going to sit at the stool. I’m not exactly sure HOW it happened, but he just leaned over and kissed me. (Oh, come on. Like you always remember every single step leading to every single kiss. Especially a kiss you weren’t fully expecting.)

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do. My mind was going a million miles a second it felt like, trying to analyze what was going on, why it was going on…everything. I slowly started responding, and I felt his arms wrap around my waist and shoulders, pulling me closer.

After a few moments (really, no clue how long, but it felt like a while), I pulled back. “Um… Gar…” I managed to murmur.

He just looked at me, his arms still wrapped around me.

I knew we needed space, we needed to talk about this. I mean, yes, I love Garret, but I honestly never considered a relationship that way. I just stared at him for a long moment.

“We should talk about this huh?” he asked.

“Yeah…” I said. “We should.”

He slowly released me, and I slid off the counter and walked over to the couch, tucking my feet under me as I settled on one end, the pillow in my lap. I watched Garret as he walked over and (wisely) sat on the other end of the couch.

“Um, you start,” I said, not adding what I was thinking – “Since you are the one who started all of this, and I really don’t think about you romantically at all because you’re like my big brother and it would just be too weird, even for me.” In retrospect, it does seem a bit cruel to have added that on before he’d even said anything. I’ll admit that.

“Jordan…” he started. “This… This is going to sound pathetic, but…”

I just looked at him, trying not to get exasperated.

“I fell in love with you that day you stood in my office and said you’d quit your residency,” he said.

I think my eyes about popped out of my head at that point. I couldn’t say anything – even if my mouth would have worked, I couldn’t think of what to say.

“I know it’s pathetic,” he said. “But… But you flashed that fragile smile of yours at me and I was gone.”

“All this time?” I finally managed to say softly. “How…? Why…?”

Garret shook his head. “I didn’t say anything because…” he thought for a moment. “Hell, Jordan. At the time I was offering you a job. And then… Well, frankly I was afraid of things going wrong and you suing me for sexual harassment.”

I coughed at that one. “Me? Seriously?”

“Hey, you can’t be too careful,” Garret chuckled.

I shrugged, but pulled the pillow more against my chest.

“Jordan, I can’t explain it,” he said. “I know that it would be playing with fire. I know that… Hell, I don’t know what I know.”

“Gar…” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. “Yes, I love you. But you’re my mentor. You’re like an older brother.” I grinned. “You’re my bestest girlfriend!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. 

“I honestly had no idea,” I said finally.

“Then I did exactly what I set out to do,” Garret said. “I never wanted you to know.”

“But why?”

“Jordan, you can do so much better than me,” he started.

“Oh come on Garret,” I said. “You’re a great guy.”

“But…” he looked at me for a long moment.

“But…” I took a deep breath. “Ok, I’ll admit, there is a definite tension between us. Any time we’re in a room together there’s an electricity.”

“Ok, so…”

“But.” I shook my head. “Garret…if we tried to make it work, and it didn’t…” I looked up at him, feeling tears pushing at my eyes. “Who would we turn to?”

Garret sighed and nodded. “The more I think about it,” he said, “The more I think I’ve done the right thing keeping it a secret.”

“Huh?” I asked him, completely confused. “But you wanted to talk. And we just…”

He shook his head. “You just said it,” he said.

“Um… What?”

“Jordan, you’re right,” he said. “Who do we usually turn to when things go wrong in our lives or relationships?”

“Um…each other?” I asked.

“Right,” he said. “Yes, I am in love with you Jordan Cavanaugh. But thinking about it now, face to face… Jor, it would be about the worst thing we could do.”

I just shook my head and looked at him, unable to figure out what was going on and how this went from HIM wanting to discuss a relationship to HIM saying it would never work. I mean, I didn’t disagree with that thought, but…

“It’s just… The way I feel… The way you responded to that kiss…” he took a deep breath. “I think it would be too intense for either of us to handle. And when it burned out… I’m not sure I see either one of us surviving it intact.”

I had to nod…he made sense. “But…”

“Jordan,” he slid a little closer to me and reached over to take one of my hands in his. “No one ever died from unrequited love. It’s fine.”

“Garret,” I said. “I just never had any idea…”

“That tells me I did exactly what I intended to do,” he said again. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

I bit my lip and nodded slightly.

“Don’t you dare even think about running,” Garret said.

“Garret…it might be easier if I…”

“Jordan, no. I’ve felt this way for years and we’ve talked, hugged, hell we’ve even cuddled up next to each other all this time,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Again, I just looked at him.

“I promise Jor,” he said. “Just…just forget I ever said anything about it.”

And that was that. So yes…Garret has feelings for me. No, I don’t have feelings in the romantic sense for him. I will always love him as my friend, my mentor, and my big brother figure. But I have never loved him as more than that – and I don’t ever see myself loving him as more than that.

I just hope he’s telling me the truth that he’s ok with things as they are.


	13. Tom Crane

I met Tom one night when I’d gone to a little Irish pub just to chill after work. I didn’t know he was married at the time. Actually for a couple of months. He didn’t hide it, but I also didn’t ask.

I definitely didn’t set out to fall for a married man. But by the time I found out he was, I was in too deep. I tried to end it. I really, truly did. But I kept going back.

And then there was one night he gave me a key chain. He wanted to stay the night, but I knew it would be a bad idea. I made him leave. I’d just gotten up to my apartment when the phone rang.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” I purred into the phone. (Yes, purred. Shut up.)

“What are you doing with my husband?” a female voice came across the line.

I panicked and hung up the phone. It started ringing again. I was freaking out. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, and now everyone was getting hurt.

I ripped the phone out of the wall and ran around my place in total panic mode. I grabbed my suitcase from the closet and just started blindly throwing clothes into it, not even noticing what I was putting in.

Once my bag was packed, I sat down at the table with a pen and paper. My hand was shaking as I wrote a letter to Garret. I didn’t go into details. I was resigning effectively immediately.

I was sobbing so hard I could barely see what I was writing, and I’m fairly sure there were probably tear blobs on the paper. I didn’t WANT to do it, I didn’t WANT to leave Boston. Boston was my home. It’s where Dad was. It’s where Mom was buried. It’s where my whole life had been other than that one semester in Italy.

But I knew if I stayed, as big as Boston was, I’d still run into him. The break had to be clean. I knew if I saw him at all it would be all over and I’d be right back in his bed (or, well, the hotel beds we usually ended up in), and I knew I couldn’t do that.

I grabbed my suitcase, my purse, and my guitar and bolted, dropping the letter in the mailbox on my way to the airport. I had no clue where I was going – I figured I’d get to Logan and see what hit me, and what I could afford.

At the time I couldn’t have told you why that call waking me up as if from a dream jarred me so much. I know it made me really realize what I was doing – that I was having an affair. But now… 

Hell Stiles, you know this.

I didn’t want to turn into my mother. I had never acknowledged what I heard (and saw to a degree) when I was little. Until I heard his wife’s voice on the other end of the line. I couldn’t deal.

So I ran.


	14. Hector Chirullo

Hector Chirullo was a detective I met out in Los Angeles on my first case. I got to the scene and could not for the life of me figure out who the detective in charge was. Because trust me, Hector does NOT look like what you typically think of when you think of a detective – or even just a regular cop. He’s…round.

Don’t get me wrong, I love him dearly. But I used to tease him about how he managed to pass his yearly physical. I mean, he’s not FAT, but he’s larger. Fit as hell though, which is how he passes the physical every year.

Not going to come as a big surprise to tell you that we butted heads at first. I mean, it’s sort of right there in the whole scenario. Me, medical examiner who can’t stay on her own side of the fence. And cop I work with, cop who cannot stand having a medical examiner not stay on her side of the fence.

But it only took a couple of cases before we were fast friends. There was never a question of anything romantic. And no, it had nothing to do with his size. There was just never that spark of anything other than a really good, solid friendship. Oh, and the fact that he was married with a kid and one more on the way. After… Well, that’s another story, but I don’t do affairs (anymore).

I learned just how good and solid our friendship (and he and his wife’s relationship) was during one horrific case we worked – and the aftermath that came with it.

He would specifically request me for certain scenes – usually the toughest ones because he knew I could handle it. And I knew what the hell I was doing and made sure I wasn’t going to do anything to screw up the case. I might have my rogue moments, but I’m not stupid. And especially after the debacle that was the OJ trial, everyone wanted to make sure everything was a hundred percent copacetic.

One morning I’d just gotten in when the call came in. A medical examiner was needed at a scene and I’d been requested. I grabbed what I needed and headed out. Hec met me on the road before I even got to the tape. His face was paler than I’d ever seen it.

“Hec, what’s wrong?” I asked. “Do you know the vic?”

He shook his head. “No baby girl,” he said (his pet name for me – which of course contributed to rumors that something WAS going on with us). “But it’s rough.”

“How rough?”

“Makes NBS look like child’s play,” he said. NBS was our shorthand way of saying Nicole Brown Simpson. Made it easier - and had the added advantage that if anyone overheard it they’d have to think about it for a while before they figured out what we meant by it.

“Yikes,” I said.

“Just… Brace yourself.”

I nodded and followed him to and under the tape. The smell of blood hit me before we even cleared the doorway, so I knew the scene was going to be brutal. And it was. So much blood everywhere. 

It was a hot mess of a scene. Not meaning messed up by us. The room itself was a hot mess with arterial spatter to the degree you would almost think that they had chosen to paint the room that way.

Hector told me the basics of the case. Woman murdered. Her husband was the primary suspect due to repeated domestic violence reports and all the initial evidence. But we had to go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. We were not going to make the same mistakes that the world had already seen our departments could make.

It didn’t take long to determine that our first impressions were correct and it was almost a sure thing that the husband did it. When you work in our field, you learn never to say a hundred percent because juries can be crazy wild things. Still, there was enough to arraign him.

I was over at the precinct dropping some stuff off when they were getting him ready to go to the courthouse. He knew what I looked like – he knew what everyone investigating the case looked like. One of the idiots who was supposed to ensure he was cuffed securely screwed something up, and the guy lunged at me in the hall. I yelled, and Hector came running into the hall, stepping between us as the uniforms tried to wrestle him into submission. Didn’t stop the asshole from verbally threatening me though.

Our case was so solid, and the whole thing was so brutal, it never occurred to any of us that the judge would actually grant him bail. So when I left, there was no talk of protective detail. I hadn’t been gone five minutes when Hector got the call from the District Attorney’s office that for some mysterious reason bail had been granted. And the guy was walking around free. He ran to the chief’s office to convince him that I needed to be found and put under protective detail immediately. The guy was crazy enough we knew his threat wasn’t an idle one. Plus we knew exactly what he was capable of.

But the chief didn’t listen. He was feeling heat over “unnecessary expenditures” and didn’t see that he could justify putting someone on me for what he insisted was an idle threat. Hector tried and tried to make him see reason, but finally said he would put himself on me at no charge. I think he thought that offering that would make the Chief see how serious the situation was, but no dice. 

So Hec redoubled his efforts to get me on my cell and jumped in his car heading to my apartment, hoping I’d taken the same way home. I can just imagine him trying to look into every bus he passed (What? I’m a girl from the city. Cars are kind of a luxury when you’re having to deal with crazy street-side parking and so forth. Plus when your job has a car you can use when you are going out on a case…it’s an expense that’s not totally necessary.), hoping he’d see me so he could jump on and pull me off and into the safety of his car. My cell battery had long since died, and this was before the age of portable chargers. And I had gotten an early bus.

I got off a couple of stops early thinking I’d walk and try to clear my head – even though I knew all the images I’d been seeing were going to haunt me for a while. I saw a couple of flashes of lightning and heard a distant rumble of thunder, so I quickened my pace.

The only slightly undesirable thing about my apartment was that if I was taking a shortcut like I was doing that night to avoid an approaching storm, I had to walk through this building cut through that even on the brightest days was dim. Mix in an approaching storm and the sun having set and it was downright dark. 

So dark I never saw him until he had me pinned against the wall, a knife at my throat. I opened my mouth, but before any sound escaped he pressed the knife tighter against me.

“One squeak, bitch, and I’ll put this all the way through that pretty little neck,” he half-whispered, his face close enough I could feel and smell his breath.

While one hand held the knife at my throat, the other was working at the fly on his pants, dropping them even as he pressed closer and closer to me. Once he’d freed himself, he turned his free hand to working my skirt up. Once he had access, he began ramming his fist up against me. I was biting my lip to keep from crying out. I don’t remember ever being so scared in my adult life as I was at that moment.

I guess his aggression and lord only knows whatever he had coursing through his system conspired against him because for whatever reason, he couldn’t get it up, couldn’t get hard enough to do what he really wanted. It distracted him enough he quit ramming his fist into me, but not enough for him to take the knife away from my neck.

It also distracted him enough that he never saw someone charge him from the shadows. Hector. He’d gotten there, but not in time to stop the beginnings of the assault. Still, he moved like a cat and the asshole never saw him coming. He barreled into the guy, knocking him away from me and the knife across the alley. As they landed on the ground, I slid down the wall, shaking like a leaf. The lightning flashed and the thunder crashed, everything accentuated by the alley.

I could see them wrestling on the ground, and I jumped when I heard a gunshot. I didn’t know who was hit as neither moved for what seemed like forever. Then Hector rolled off of him and rolled him over to cuff him, ensuring the cuffs were tight and secure and that he wouldn’t do anymore damage. I could hear the sirens in the distance as Hector came over to me – I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t do anything to staunch the bleeding from the husband’s leg where he’d taken a bullet. I mean, no sense letting him bleed out when he just sealed his fate, right?

“Jordan, chica…” he said, stroking my cheeks.

“I’m ok Hec,” I started.

“Bullshit,” he said simply. “Tell me…”

I shook my head. “No penetration,” I managed to say. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Hector said, pulling me close. “Any assault like that is intense and damaging. You’re going to the hospital.”

I shook my head and tried to protest, but at a bright flash and absurdly loud crash of thunder I yelped and the front I was trying to keep up crumbled as I dissolved in tears.

Hector pulled my skirt back down as he pulled me into his lap, cradling me and cooing to me in Spanish as we waited what seemed like an interminable time for more cops and the ambulance to get there. 

Because only one ambulance had come and there was no way Hector was going to make me ride with my assailant, he gave the cops who arrived at the scene the rundown of what had happened and told them if they needed anything else from me, they could come to the hospital. He was taking me there himself.

He stayed with me the whole time. I wanted – no, I needed him there. Even when they did the pelvic, which was required even though I said there was no penetration. There was obvious bruising though – let me tell you how much fun it was having to have those pictures taken. We really need to figure out another way to examine victims of sexual assault – one that doesn’t feel like a second violation. 

Once I was released and dressed in a set of scrubs they gave me (my clothes were now evidence), Hector wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder. “My place or yours?” he asked. At my questioningly raised eyebrow, he raised his own. “Jordan, chica, you are not staying by yourself tonight.”

I nodded mutely. When he used my name rather than “Baby Girl” I knew he was serious. After a moment’s consideration, I said “Mine.”

He nodded and gently guided me to his car. We drove in a surprisingly comfortable silence until we got to my complex. Hector parked the car and came around to my side, holding me close to his as we walked up the stairs and to my door.

Once we were inside, Hec settled me on the couch, then started a fire in the fireplace (yes, it can get chilly enough to warrant that – especially during a storm in the winter) and started a hot bath filling my tub. He went to my fridge and studied my collection of takeout menus. “Chinese, Thai, or pizza?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” I said, not hungry at all.

“You are getting some food in you baby girl,” he said. “Would you rather I looked through your fridge and cooked something?”

“Chinese,” I sighed. “General Tsao’s with white rice. And an egg roll with hot mustard.”

Hector nodded and went to check on the water. “Your bath is ready,” he said. “Relax. I’ll order dinner.”

I nodded and went into the bathroom, smiling when I saw Hec had obviously explored my stash of bath stuff and picked my favorite lavender-vanilla bubble bath. His wife was one lucky woman – and she was gorgeous to boot. We’d hang out a lot outside of work, so I knew her well. Which was yet another reason I’d never entertain the thought of anything romantic with Hec. Some things were just meant to not be messed up, and Hector and Maria were definitely in that category.

I heard Hec on the phone with her, explaining what had happened and that he was going to stay with me at least for that night. After tonight we’d see – but me going over to their place was discussed as a possibility.

When I heard the food arrive, I slowly got out of the tub – the soreness was really starting to kick in, so I was definitely moving slowly – and toweled off before going into my bedroom and pulling on some baggy sweatpants and a tank top and hoodie. A pair of socks completed the look, and my hair went into a messy ponytail before I padded into the living area and curled up on the couch with my feet tucked under me. Hec put the food on plates and brought them over with a couple of cans of soda.

“I know what you probably want, chica,” he said. “But trust me. You need the sugar in this more.”

I sighed and nodded, taking a sip of soda to wash down the pain relievers he had brought over to me. “Figured you could probably use those too,” he said, settling next to me. He flipped the television onto some nature or travel program or something, I don’t really remember other than it was a station that wasn’t going to be playing the news. He didn’t want me to have to deal with seeing anything at all about the case splashed over the screen – and neither of us knew what if anything of his attack on me would be on there. Better to avoid.

Once we’d eaten, Hector looked from me to the phone and back again.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you want to call your father or do you want me to?” he asked.

I just looked at him.

“Chica, he needs to know,” he said gently. “He’s your father.”

“Hec, we’re in Los Angeles,” I said. “He’s in Boston.”

“And this case has the potential to go national,” Hector said. “Even if the rich and famous aren’t involved. You know as well as I do the scrutiny every aspect of law enforcement and prosecution is under right now. This case would be the perfect one for everyone to want to watch. And if the basics go national…”

“The attack on me would go national as well,” I finished with a sigh.

Hec nodded and gently squeezed my knee. “It’ll be ok chica,” he said. “Your daddy loves you.”

I reached for the phone and held it for a long moment. Looking at the clock, I figured out that it wasn’t so late it would freak him out – I had been known to mess up on the time difference before, and this would seem almost normal. With a sigh, I dialed the familiar number.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi Dad,” I said. “It’s not too late is it?”

“It’s a little after 11, Jordan,” he said. “But that’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I always get the difference…”

“Jordan, baby, it’s fine,” Dad said. “I’m always glad to hear from you.”

“Ok,” I said.

“So… How is everything going?” Dad asked.

Hector was giving me THE LOOK as I made like this was just a normal “I missed your voice” kind of phone call. I bit my lip, but he reached over and took my hand, squeezing it and mouthing “It’ll be ok.”

“It’s…it’s mostly ok,” I said.

“Mostly…” Dad started. “Oh Jordan don’t tell me you…”

“No, Dad,” I said. “I still have my job.” Hec looked at me like “what the hell?” and I shook my head “not now” I mouthed.

“Ok…” Dad said.

“Um… We have this case out here. “I don’t know if it’s been on the news yet, but…”

“The one that’s more intense than the Simpson case?” he asked.

Shit. It was already national.

“Yeah,” I said.

“It sounds brutal,” he said. “I can’t believe that idiot judge granted him bail.”

“Wow, so that’s on the news too?” I asked, looking at Hector with wide eyes. “Anything else? Like from today?”

“No…” Dad said. “That was all they reported on the news at 6. That he was out on bail.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he would hear what had happened from me directly and not hear about the attack from the news – because you knew they would most likely not reveal my name but would probably at least reveal that it was a female involved in the investigation. And it wouldn’t take a genius to connect the dots. And Dad was more than a genius when it came to dots.

“Jordan?” Dad said, his voice taking on a hint of worry. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I took a deep breath. “The news was right. They did grant him bail. No one can figure out why, but there you are.”

“And…?” he knew me too well. He knew there was more.

“Dad, I’m ok,” I said. “Just… Remember that I’m ok.”

“Jordan, what happened?” Dad’s voice was going beyond a little bit of worry.

“Before the arraignment, when he was being taken to court…” I was struggling to keep my voice calm. “He… Someone didn’t cuff him well enough. And he came at me…”

“My god, Jordan!” Dad said, real panic evident in his voice.

“I’m ok,” I repeated.

“Jordan Claire Cavanaugh, you tell me exactly what happened and you tell me now,” he demanded.

“I went back to the morgue,” I said. “Finished up what I needed to do and I left. I… I didn’t know he’d gotten bail. I left before that word came in.”

“And…?”

“And I… I…” I couldn’t help it, I broke down in tears.

Hector took the phone from my hands. “Mr. Cavanaugh? This is Hector Chirullo. We met when you were out here at Christmas,” he said.

“Hector, what the hell happened?” Dad said. Even with Hector having the phone I could tell he was fighting to stay even remotely calm.

“I went straight to the chief to tell him we needed to put a protective detail on Jordan immediately. But for some reason he didn’t think we could justify the cost,” Hec said.

“He WHAT?” I cringed as I heard Dad clearly through the air between me and Hec.

“I told him I’d do it myself at no cost,” Hec said, pulling me close into his side as I’d continued crying and shaking.

“Well, thank you for that,” Dad said.

“I knew most of the ways Jordan would go home, and when a storm started brewing I was almost positive, so I headed straight there.”

“But…”

“But I didn’t get there before he’d pinned Jordan against the wall and…”

“Hector, put my daughter on the phone. Right now,” Dad said.

Hec squeezed me and put the phone to my ear. “He wants to…he needs to hear it from you chica,” he said softly.

“Daddy?” I managed through my sobs.

“As soon as we’re off the phone I’m getting a ticket out there,” he said. “But first tell me exactly what happened.”

I took a deep breath. “I know it was stupid to take the short cut. But I did it anyway. I mean, it’s stupid even though I didn’t know he had gotten bail…”

“Jordan…” Dad said. “What happened?”

“He came at me from the shadows,” I said, squeezing myself even further into Hec’s side as he wrapped his arms around me. “Before I could react, he had me against the wall with a knife to my throat.”

“My god…”

“Dad?” I said softly. “Can I just get it all out?”

“Sure baby,” Dad said. I could tell he was making a real effort to calm down to try and help me calm down.

“Thanks,” I said. “So… He… He pushed my skirt up. And he started… He started ramming his hand up against me. I guess he was trying to… Trying to get it up. Because I know he lost focus on me and looked down.” A deep breath. “Just long enough for Hec to come running at him and knock him away from me. And the knife away from him.”

“Thank god for that,” Dad said softly when I paused to swallow hard.

“I mean, I didn’t know it was Hec at first,” I said. “At first I thought… But it was Hec. They wrestled around on the ground for a moment and I just sank to the ground. I know I should have run, but my legs…”

“Jordan, don’t you dare blame yourself,” Dad said as Hec whispered the same thing into my hair.

“Ok,” I said through my tears. “A gunshot went off, and I didn’t know who was hit. I just screamed. Then Hector rolled off of him and rolled him over to cuff him. Tightly. The asshole had been hit in the leg. So Hec radioed for back-up and paramedics, then he did tie off the guy’s leg. I mean…”

“No sense in him bleeding to death when he just added a good chunk of time to his sentence,” Dad finished my thought for me.

“Hec took me to the hospital and stayed with me through everything,” I said. “And he brought me home, and he’s staying with me tonight. We’ve already talked to Maria and she’s fine with it.”

“Good,” Dad said. “You don’t need to be alone. And I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Dad, you don’t have…” I started. 

“Jordan, yes I do,” Dad said. “You are my child, and I need to be with you right now.”

“Ok,” I said. As much as I hated to admit it, I was happy he was coming. Hector was awesome and all, but sometimes a girl just needs her daddy,”

“Let me get the flight arranged and I’ll call you back once I have it,” Dad said.

“Sure,” I said. “And Daddy?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you,” I said softly.

“I love you too baby,” Dad said, and I could hear the tears in his voice. “I love you too.”

So Dad came out and stayed with me for a couple of weeks – the advantage of having been forced to take early retirement I suppose…he didn’t have to clear any vacation time with anyone.

That whole thing brought Hector and me even closer. He had truly become the big brother I never had (see also: James…the half-brother I never knew I had and who tried to kill me or get me killed for the complete opposite fraternal experience). It was a while before I even wanted to think about going on any date with anyone – first just to heal physically (severe bruising down there HURTS and puts any thoughts of THAT right out of your head) and then the emotional side.

When I felt like I was maybe ready, Hector came up with this “test” idea. I never understood why he just wouldn’t play the angry Latino brother figure, but he said something about a physical threat was something anyone could deal with. But his idea…someone would really have to care to want to risk that.

So what was this brilliant idea of Hectors? This threat that would send the non-serious ones screaming for the hills?

Two little words.

Chili cheeseburgers.

Yes, you read that right. He would act like we’d been a thing but when I’d “chewed him up and spit him out” he just couldn’t deal and “it all started with one chili cheeseburger” or something like that. I only heard about it – never experienced it.

I’m not even sure why I had him try it on Tyler. Because I knew Tyler was going to be just surfer boy fun. He just laughed it off with “I’m a pescetarian, dude” and that was that.

Now Woody… I really wish I could have been a fly on the bench when Hector pulled it with Woody. I didn’t even ask him to, but I guess he heard something in my voice when I called to give him the heads-up that Woody would probably be calling him after getting himself mixed up with Sunny D. 

I honestly didn’t intend for Hec to do “the routine” with Woody, but I guess he heard something in my voice. Or maybe it’s that I never referred anyone to him for help. (Of course I never knew anyone stupid enough to get himself mixed up with Sunny D either while we’re mentioning that…) But in Hector’s opinion, Woody “passed”. Whatever that means.

I really should have Hector and Maria and their kids out to Boston to visit. The kids would love the science museum and the bug place. And it would be great to see Hec and Maria. I should probably call them and try to work out dates.


	15. Nigel Townsend

Ah Nige. What is there to say about my partner in crime?

Well, other than he is. My partner in crime I mean.

Nigel is truly unlike anyone I’ve ever known. He is completely unique and has no problem just being himself. And he’s all about his toys.

That fact got him tagged as the computer geek of the morgue, and he’s the one we’ve all run to for computer stuff. I remember the day he swore off helping any of us with computers – but then he came to my office and saw me attempting to do this pitiful, painfully slow keyword search and took pity on me.

Nigel is the big brother I wish I had – only I have no clue how Dad would have dealt with him. Every time we get together to go through old cold files, Nige always gets cast as the killer-perv. Though granted at least when we were looking at the Strangler case, while he looked to be the killer-perv he wasn’t. So that was cool.

I don’t know if he’s ever felt anything more towards me. Sometimes I think yes he does, sometimes I think no he doesn’t. He can be a hard one to read.

But I do know that he loves me unconditionally. Hell, he’s risked his job (and thus risked deportation) more than once for me. And when I’ve run, he’s tracked me as best he can.

Oh, and then there was Tyler’s dinner party – thrown at my place. I guess Nige decided things could get…awkward. So he brought along some ouzo and a set of questions. It was truth or dare, but with very potent (and possibly illegal) alcohol. You answered a question or you drank. Needless to say we all ended up pretty plastered. Tyler opted for a question, and Nigel sidled up next to me, put his arm around my waist, and said “What are your intentions towards our dear girl?”

Tyler stammered something out, and I pushed things with this whole speech that went something along the lines of “Well, why not move in. I mean, I’m struggling just to pay rent on this place. So why not. And while we’re at it, let’s just do the whole thing. I mean, tick tock tick tock goes the little clock.” Or something. I was pretty well wasted at that point – but clear enough to do the biggest bluffing job of my life.

Nigel’s the one who talked to J.D. when I was stranded up at the Lucy Carver Inn – and the one responsible for the ring J.D. was going to give me if I hadn’t gone and fucked things all to hell by…ok, that goes in someone else’s chapter. But he’s the one who told him something like “not letting a day be diminished” or some other such thing. I never got to hear it all the way as it was said. 

And then when I had to have the meningioma surgery, he was every bit as worried as Garret was. He was at the hospital almost as long. He ordered a big fish tank and fish for me because he read that fish and water stuff could help healing or something like that. Turns out he didn’t read all about the fish he got, and one of them ate the others. Evander – that’s what I named him – was the first thing I saw when I came out of the coma-type thing I’d been in (I don’t think they ever officially called it a coma, hence my calling it a coma-type thing.) He was also firmly in the “babysit Jordan” pool after the surgery.

And while this wasn’t specific to me, he was integral to making the device out of our phones up on that mountain that ultimately got us rescued.

Like I said, Nigel is one of a kind. And whoever he ends up with is going to be damn lucky to have him.


	16. Tyler

So I suppose I should include Tyler in this thing even though he is so many shades of not in my life anymore.

Tyler was my surfer boy in Los Angeles. Somehow he got past Hector’s questions and tests – maybe it’s because I never really thought of him as anything serious. Trust me…if you knew Tyler you’d understand that it was hard to take anything he said or did seriously.

Ok, so leaving him in L.A. with just a note probably wasn’t the nicest thing, but it’s not like we’d ever talked about a future together. I never knew he thought of us as anything more than a fun little diversion either.

And then he showed up at my door in Boston. And wham, the next thing I know he’s answering my phone when Garret called me about the bank robbery case. Supposedly just dropping through on his way to Patagonia. Seriously? You cannot convince me that there were not cheaper and quicker ways to get there from Los Angeles than coming all the way to Boston. The flight got cancelled a couple of times, then he went.

But he came back.

And got a job in Boston.

And made friends with my co-workers.

And suddenly there is a dinner party going on in my apartment. Complete with Nigel and his ouzo. Quickly developed into a “drink or answer the question” game which led to the biggest bluffing game of my life.

Basically Nigel asked him what his intentions were towards me. He said he figured we’d pick up where we left off, and I said I thought that was a step backwards. That we should just move in together. And then threw the gauntlet of “I’m not getting any younger. Tick tock, tick tock goes that little clock, you know what I mean? Not that I’m saying we should have kids right away, but I should at least have a ring on my finger within a year.” down.

Now, I have no clue what I would have done if he’d taken me up on it. Freaked the hell out, I can tell you that right now. But he ended up packing up and heading back to Los Angeles.  
About six months later, I got a wedding announcement from him.

And for some weird reason, it really shook me. I don’t think it’s that I really wanted him…I guess… Hell, I don’t know. I guess that…that it was so soon after he’d bolted from my suggestion of moving things ahead.

Maybe he called my bluff right.

Or maybe I wasn’t bluffing.


	17. Lily Lebowski

Ah Lily. 

What an interesting girl. At first, when I came back to Boston, she was just the intake girl so my interactions with her were minimal. But that didn’t mean I didn’t see how she was all gooey around Garret. 

So I’ll admit it, I pushed them towards each other. And I still say they would be good for each other if not for a couple of people who work in the District Attorney’s Office getting in the way (ok, so other than being Maddie’s father Jeffrey is pretty much out of the picture in Lily’s life…)

Lily and I have an interesting relationship. In a lot of ways she’s my opposite – she’s sweet and innocent and sees life through rose-colored glasses. She believes in spiritual stuff that you can’t see. She’s so open to everyone. Which is why she’s so good at what she does – being a grief counselor.

Back when everything was going batshit with Redding and everything, she came over and stayed up with me all night, just talking, trying to keep me calm. Even if she did say I was the Wolfman – I never really got it, but she seemed to. I gave her the key to the car and asked her to keep it away from me. She took it, but she didn’t lock it up, and… Yeah. We know how that ended up.  
I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think there was something with her and Woody early on. I know she was at his place the night I went there before I went after Redding…they said it was to look at his robot collection. But… Not my circus, not my monkeys, you know?

Still, we did become pretty good friends and would hang out from time to time – we even took Devan with us once (don’t even ask me what I was thinking there…). And I was supposed to be her maid of honor at her wedding. Yeah, that would be the one that didn’t happen because J.D. ended up dead and I ended up accused of his murder. On the morning of the wedding.

We don’t do a lot together anymore – not since Maddie. But she’s still a good friend and someone my life would be less rich without.


	18. Special Agent Drew Haley

The day I met Drew, I had just been out to a scene where a body was recovered from the water…only it had been embalmed before hitting the water. In other words, someone had taken the body from a grave – and probably used the grave for someone else.

I got back to the morgue, but some asshole had parked in my parking spot with a fancy car. A fact which I sounded off about as soon as I got into the morgue. He turned around and said he would be that asshole.

Now, let’s discuss that at the time I was also dealing with a pain in the ass photographer who insisted on showing up at the crime scenes. Ok, so he was getting me some information, but still.

And then when Haley showed up at the office, he proceeded to take all of our information on the case. Well, ok, ALMOST all of it. I switched the SD card in the camera with a blank one before I handed it over (made easier because he demanded the CARD and not the CAMERA).

Still, I was intrigued. What the hell was the Federal Bureau of Investigations doing on this case?

Eventually I worked my charms and he filled me in on everything he knew about the case so far (along with doing his own profiling of me – Daddy’s girl, Daddy was probably a cop…he pretty much nailed everything other than what color underwear I was wearing – clearly I am a bit of a sceptic when it comes to the whole profiling business). He was profiling a serial killer they were calling Digger. The guy would kidnap a woman, make her hair dark brown, put lipstick on her…basically make her look like…someone. He’d put her in a grave that he dug up and emptied. He’d tape a walkie-talkie in her hands and basically listen to her panic. Until she died.

Adam Flynn – that was the photographer’s name – he came to me with more information he’d uncovered, and we went to where we thought the guy was living. A trailer. The FBI (aka Haley) figured the numbers they found were some kind of Bible references…but when we got into the trailer… He was recording how long it took the women to die.

While we were in there, he came back…we jumped out and found the body he’d dug up in the back of his truck. We took it back to the morgue and everyone got to work trying to determine who he was and where he’d been buried. I’d also found the walkie Digger had and had been trying to talk to Chloe – that was her name – and keep her calm. When we found where she’d been buried, we rushed out there and dug her up as quickly as we could.

It was too late. She died in my arms right after I opened the coffin and pulled her out.

In the meantime, Digger had set his trailer on fire – we had invaded his sanctuary and burning it was the only way to purify it in his mind. What I didn’t notice at the time was that my ID had fallen on the ground.

I was trying to figure out everything – and whether or not I could believe Drew Haley and what all he was telling me. Trust is never one of my strong suits, and as I already said, that pretty much makes me extremely skeptical of the profiling thing.

In the meantime, we’d found the place where Digger – his real name was Daniel – had grown up – and the bench he had been forced to hide in while his mother entertained her male visitors. Obviously he was punishing and killing his mother every time – hence the make-up and possible dye job on the victims. (And all this time it didn’t occur to me that very little would have to be done to me besides some lipstick…) But I also discovered where his aunt lived – or the woman he knew as his aunt. 

See, I found the reports from his mother’s – or rather, who he thought was his mother - autopsy and discovered that she had never given birth. His biological mother, who he grew up thinking was his aunt had become pregnant out of wedlock and gave her son, Daniel, to her sister and her sister’s husband to raise. She never knew what her sister was putting Daniel through, she didn’t know what he had become.

And then Adam came to me with information he had discovered when doing a web search on Haley (to show how much of an idiot he was, he didn’t know that doing a web search on an agent would trigger a red flag). And discovered that he wasn’t who he said he was exactly.

His former name was Mark Ellis. He’d been married, but his wife had killed their child – by drowning him in the tub and was then committed to a mental institution (how ironic would that turn out to be when I discovered my family’s history when it came to such things). And she had eventually committed suicide. He had been a psychiatrist in private practice, but after that, he closed the practice, changed his name, and went to work for the FBI as a profiler.

Yeah…that helped me trust him.

And yet we ended up in his hotel room. Played a bit of “I’ll show you my scars, you show me yours”. And then we kissed. Pretty deeply. It could have been more, but we called a time-out.  
Doesn’t mean we didn’t take a nap together (so yes, we slept together without SLEEPING together) but it was just a nap. I woke up before he did, and decided to look in his briefcase. And I found a whole series of recordings – they were of Digger. 

I flipped out and bolted. I had no way to know exactly how Haley had gotten those tapes…for all I knew he had made them himself as he listened to the women desperately trying to gain their freedom from being buried alive. Based on all of his secrecy, I jumped to the (it really did seem obvious at the time) conclusion that HE in fact was Digger.

I went back to the morgue, and Emmy handed me a handful of messages she’d taken from Drew who was looking for me. And she said that he said he’d gone by my place but I wasn’t there. Well, obviously I was not about to go home at that point – not if someone who I was seriously thinking was a twisted serial killer hiding in plain sight under the guise of an FBI profiler knew where I lived. At least in the morgue I had a semblance of protection with anyone coming in having to pass through security.

Anyone coming in the typical way that is.

And Drew could certainly come in the typical way with a flash of his badge. And he did. He knocked on the window to my office, waking me up. I tried to get out of there and he stopped me, saying we needed to talk, that he needed to come clean with me about things. At which point I locked myself in the crypt.

He yelled through the window at me that he had been in contact with Digger. He told me I was in danger. I asked him how I was supposed to believe him. He slammed my ID against the window. 

“Because he sent me THIS!” Drew said.

I hesitated a moment, totally unsure and confused about what was true. I mean, him having my ID didn’t prove that he wasn’t Digger – especially since he’d been to the site of the burned-out trailer…he could easily have picked up my ID from where it had fallen. Still, I couldn’t definitively say that Drew had lied to me…kept things shielded from me, but he never point-blank said that he didn’t have the information he had.

Just as I had about decided to trust him, it was too late. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sheet thrown off of one of the gurneys. Drew yelled, but Daniel had grabbed me and injected me with a drug that essentially paralyzed me.

The next thing I knew, I was being carried and then put into a coffin and the lid was closed. I heard Daniel jump on the coffin’s lid to get out of the grave, and then the sickening sound of dirt hitting the coffin’s lid. 

Like the other girls, he’d put a walkie in with me. And a flashlight…though I’m really not sure if the other girls got that or what its purpose was. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to scream – I wasn’t going to give him that pleasure. And I told him that. The dirt started coming harder.

I will freely admit I was freaking out, but trying to keep my voice calm. I’m not sure where I got the idea to talk to him as his mother, but I started to. Apologizing to him, trying to calm him. The dirt stopped momentarily, then started again with even more speed. I decided to play my trump card.

“Daniel,” I said. “Do you want to know a secret? I’ll tell you a secret…”

A moment of silence.

“The woman you think was your mother wasn’t. The woman you think of as your aunt? She’s your mother…”

The dirt didn’t start back up, and for a moment I thought maybe, just maybe my plan had worked. And then I heard a sound even more sickening than the dirt hitting the coffin’s lid – the sound of his truck starting up and driving away. 

I knew he hadn’t been shoveling long enough for me to get completely covered, but I also knew that the way coffins shut there was no way I could push the lid up. I knew Drew knew he had taken me, and I knew that he would be working with Nigel, Bug, Garret…anyone he could to locate me. But I didn’t know how long that would take.

And I didn’t know that in shocking Daniel like I had, I probably caused him to ultimately save my life. He ran off so quickly, he never grabbed his walkie from where he’d left it.  
“Help me!” I kept saying it over and over. “Help me! Help…”

I blacked out just as Drew, Garret, and other officers and paramedics got there. Luckily Drew heard me over the walkie and they found me. Got me out just slightly before we’d gotten to Chloe, and they got oxygen on me quickly.

I told them I knew where he’d gone. I know they all wanted me to go to the hospital, but I wasn’t going until I knew for sure what happened. Just as we got to Jennine’s house (his birth mother but raised aunt), we heard a gunshot. We busted in to find her standing over Daniel’s body. She’d shot him in self-defense.

We went back to the morgue to finish things up and let me get my stuff. Drew and Garret walked to the elevator with me. Garret told Drew to make the next visit a social call, please, and Drew half squeezed my shoulders. But even then I think we knew it would never work – we’re both too borderline to ever be healthy together. Not denying that things wouldn’t be hot as hell for a brief while, but those things that burn the brightest… Yeah.

We let him take the first elevator – I knew Garret would insist on taking me home and getting me settled in, even sleeping on the couch if I needed him to. Just before the doors closed, I looked into Drew’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said – referencing not only the events of the evening but also of what happened to his wife and child. He half-nodded. He understood.


	19. Woody Hoyt

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day I met Woody Hoyt. No matter what life has ended up up throwing our way or how we ended up – in each other’s life or not, lovers or not.

The night before I’d been sitting in my apartment, trying to catch up on some forensic journal reading (I know, I know. What an exciting life I lead, right?). So I’m sitting there reading some article on some new DNA analysis theory or machine or something when there was a knock on the door. Weird because not all that many people knew where I was living, and those that I knew did weren’t exactly the type of people who’d come over unannounced.

I went to the door and looked through the peephole to see who it was.

Shit!

It was Tyler, the guy I had left behind when I ran from Los Angeles. Somehow he’d tracked me down. I’d tried to ignore the knock. To pretend I wasn’t there. But somehow he knew. “Come on, Jo. Open the door.”

And stupid me I did. “Tyler! What a surprise!”

He stepped inside and recited the note I’d left him. The note ending with “See ya.” 

And then the next thing I knew my clothes were off. His clothes were off, and…

Yeah, this isn’t Tyler’s chapter. Sorry about that digression.

I heard my cell ringing, but I was trying to avoid it. Tyler somehow didn’t pick up on my body language and he answered it. And then handed it to me.  
It was Garret. There was a shooting down at a bank, and there were bodies. And in cases like that of course, the bodies can’t be moved until the medical examiner is there and does what needs to be done to preserve evidence – and for the crime scene team to get their forensic stuff.

So I told Tyler I had to go, threw on some clothes, and drove to the bank. In met Garret outside, and we went in where we were immediately greeted with a “Hi. Hi there! You must be the medical examiners. I’m Woody. Woody Hoyt. And I’m the detective. New to Boston.”

My god it was like a puppy. An over eager, over anxious puppy. I half expected to find a puddle on the floor at our feet.

I said something like “You’re not from around here are you?”

He said “Just moved here from Kewaunee. Wisconsin. What was it that gave me away? The Midwestern accent?”

“Uh no,” I said. “The tie.”

Dear lord the boy needed help in the wardrobe department. I mean, I know I’m not exactly a fashion plate, but even on my worst day… (Ok, maybe not those striped pants… Even I will admit those might have been a teeny tiny mistake.)

And he never let down. Not the whole case. 

Oh there was a moment when we were discussing the shooters and victims – seems the robbers had worn masks of former presidents. He – well, on first glance we – thought this particular one was Bill. It only took me a second once I knelt down.

“Not Bill. Hillary.”

Working that case with Woody was unlike working with any other detective in the Boston Police Department. For starters, he actually seemed happy to keep us in the loop of the investigation. 

And he was so damn positive it was almost contagious.

It wasn’t long before I was being “requested” on cases only to get there and discover that the detective on scene was none other than Woody. I’m not blind. And I’m not trying to brag, but I’ve seen more than a few guys with crushes on me, and let me tell you, Woody was one of the worst. Made it fun to play around with him.

Like that S&M case we had where we were trying to set a trap for the killer. Sure we could have easily gotten one of the girls from vice who would help with their prostitution stings, but. I knew the details and what SickBoy23 would be looking for. And, I’ll be honest, the thought of Woody having to sit there while I was dressed to kill…and in front of my Dad who was helping with the surveillance since we were set up in the Pogue just was icing on the cake.

And then Cynthia Montgomery happened. Spoiled little socialite who went ballistic and revenge-hungry and mowed down a crowd outside of a night club. And then promptly died while in police custody with Woody as the arresting officer. I’ll admit it. Things looked bad for Woody. Really bad. Until I tried to make nice with Grandmother to get into the Montgomery mansion during the post-funeral reception (Beacon Hill types don’t refer to it as a “wake” – that’s so pedestrian). She wasn’t having it, but I dressed up and tagged along anyway. And found the vest that had broken her rib that led to her death. More S&M stuff. The Montgomerys dropped any threats against Woody in exchange for that little piece of information about their little princess never being revealed to anyone.

Before I found it though… Yes, I’ll admit it. I was worried about Woody. If things hadn’t turned out in his favor, I don’t know what would have happened. Yes, I met up with him in the Pogue later that evening. And yes, we danced together. After (I later found out) Dad tried to warn him off. (Well, actually he was going to tell Woody he was glad that things worked out like they did, but Woody cut him off saying something like I was a whole heap of trouble and he should just keep on walking. And then Dad actually said “Maybe you should listen to that little voice in your head.” My own father!) 

Still, we’ve had some good times. Some rough times for sure. Like the whole Redding thing. Ok, Woody really set that one in motion, even if he didn’t know he was doing it. He’s the one who requested me to meet him at Summit View for that case – which he jokingly referred to as our first date as it was at night.

Real funny there Farm Boy.

When I really started losing it, he offered to help. But I wasn’t ready to hear or accept it yet. And when I was, when I really needed his help, I went to his apartment and Lily was there.

Oh, they both said that nothing happened, that she was just there to look at his robots, blah, blah, blah. But come on…

Still, when he showed up in Los Angeles to bail me out… I’ll admit it. I was touched that he’d care enough to do that. And then when we found where Redding was… And he was going to throw me off the roof.

Woody shot and killed him – out of jurisdiction – to protect me.

I mean…what was I supposed to do with that?? I wasn’t sure what I felt for him. I wasn’t just going to fall into bed with him because he saved me. I mean, that would be totally insane, right?

That’s what I thought.

Yes, we’ve gone back and forth with where we are relationship-wise. And honestly we never seem to be able to be on the same page. We work well together, but…

What really drives me nuts? His insistence that he “waited four years” for me.

I call shenanigans. He did NOT wait for me.

I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt with Lily that particular time. 

But shall I start naming names? I think I shall. Of course in the order of things happening.

Devan.

He was clearly more upset than just losing a friend when she died. Clearly. And I know for a fact that they’d gone out more than once. Devan might have been many things, but subtle and secretive wasn’t one of them.

And I think it was somewhere after that when he decided we needed to celebrate my birthday. With balloons. And a DIAMOND ring he bought me – tried to claim it was a friendship ring. 

Because it was my birthstone. Um, I don’t know where he got the idea my birthday was in April? But he was VERY wrong.

And then there was the case at the Lucy Carver Inn. 

Oh that was one hell of an experience. Yet again, another “request” that found me working with him. Only this case took us out of town to a bed and breakfast in the mountains. In the winter. When it snows.

Oh, and should I mention this was when I was with J.D.? Not just with J.D. but pretty much living with J.D. – I’d given him a key to my apartment. And he…well, he was in more than I’ve let anyone else in besides Eddie.

Yep. We got snowed in. I was supposed to have dinner with J.D., but snow closed the roads and we were stuck. 

With only one room left.

One room. With one bed.

We did ok the first night. Shared the bed with no issues. Other than Woody whining that I was on his side when we first got in. (Is it weird that I don’t have a “side” of the bed? I mean, obviously when I’m not with anyone I can have the whole bed no problem. But honestly, even when I’m with someone we don’t worry about the side of the bed thing. We just sleep where we end up after…) Ok, granted we had to listen to some rather enthusiastic honeymooners – who turned out to have this twisted (and this coming from a medical examiner who’s not exactly known for being “normal”) thing about going to old inns with murders and stuff, but we did ok.

Then we were stuck up there another night. We’d solved the case, but the roads were still impassable. Still only the one room. But we’d done ok the night before, so it should have been fine.

But…

But it wasn’t. 

We started kissing and one thing led to another. And… Ok, and yes, we had sex. Woke up naked and spooned together the next morning.

Neither of us really knew what to say after that. And it was quite the awkward ride back to Boston. I mean, I was still essentially living with J.D. – and I really did love him even if I had a less easy time saying it than he did.

It just made things even weirder between me and Woody for the foreseeable future. Especially when he got this “rebound guy” idea into his head. I mean, if you’re the reason someone is rebounding for real or just for the time being while things get figured out, can you really make that argument?

And see the confusion comes in with the whole J.D. relationship. When Woody and I were reenacting a murder to try and figure out the solution, J.D. came in and saw us. And he saw something there between us. I admitted it in the loft later that night. And J.D. ended up telling me that he thought we could get past it if I could tell him that what happened with Woody didn’t mean anything.

I couldn’t. Because it did…but it didn’t mean everything either.

And yes, similarly if Woody had asked me to say that what I was doing with J.D. didn’t mean anything, I couldn’t have said anything there either.

Woody and I started working on trying to build some kind of foundation before we did anything – I still wasn’t moving as quickly as he would have liked. And then he got shot.

Some asshole kid with cop-killer bullets shot him. God, when I got the call about it… My heart stopped and I just dropped everything and bolted to the hospital. He had to have his spleen removed – and I guess from where the bullet landed there was some question as to how much use of his legs he’d have (we didn’t know that until after the surgery). I was at the hospital before he got taken to surgery. I intercepted the team taking him to the operating room, and I made them stop so I could tell him I loved him. I didn’t know if he really heard me or not.

And if he did I don’t know that it mattered, because he proceeded to kick me out of his hospital room when he did wake up after the surgery. Told me I had said it out of pity and he didn’t need anyone’s pity.

Yeah, things got to be super awkward between us after that. I mean, eventually we started hanging out, going for runs, that kind of thing. But inevitably something would come up and he’d get on his rebound kick again or even more fun his “I’ve waited four years, Jordan” kick.

Again, I call shenanigans. I know for a fact that he’s “moved on” several times. With people I know even.

But I do have to say he came through when I was trying to become Kayla’s foster mother. When everyone in the morgue was making fun of me (Nigel, Lily, Bug…looking at you) or being less than supportive (Garret, looking at you), Woody actually wrote a great character reference letter for me. I was actually touched by that.

Granted, he was also sleeping with Lu at the time. I walked in on them in a lip lock in his new office when I went to give him a present. Of course they both then thought that everything was all awkward between us. It was only awkward because they were making it awkward. I tried to lighten the whole thing by kissing both of them, but it didn’t really seem to make much of a difference. Things stayed awkward until the night of the riots – and then Lu was taken out of the equation. So yeah…more awkward.

He was also great with me after my surgery. I mean, he sort of avoided me and everything about it until I was in surgery, but he did end up coming to my room – and other than my fish, he was the first person I saw when I woke up. He also did his share of babysitting me until I was able to be alone.

And then there was the crash. We’d been running a D-Mort and were transporting the bodies back to Boston. Big storm, plane off course trying to get around it, one engine went, then the other engine. And funny thing, planes don’t fly with no engines. 

We were sitting next to each other in the bulkhead seats when we went down. We grabbed hands, but I think that was as much instinct as anything. When you’re feeling that out of control don’t you want something, anything to grab onto? And things looked bad. Like we were all going to freeze to death up on the mountain and not be found for a long, long time bad. Then Nigel and Bug managed to get something they thought would work for getting a signal out put together using our phones and some wiring, and Bug and Woody tried to get it to the point where we thought we’d have the best chance of getting a signal out. But it wasn’t that easy, and the device died while they were trying to get out.

So yeah, after that we figured all was lost. Woody and I were sitting out by the fire and started talking, and yes, ok, I said I loved him. And we kissed. And then we heard the rescue planes coming – apparently the signal had gotten out.

So then, once again, we were faced with the big question. Was it legit or was it the circumstances? I honestly thought it had been legit – and it probably was at the time. When we got back, we did start dating – yes, dating. We did other things besides just the physical. But when you got down to it, when we really got deep down in there, we both figured out that as attracted as we were to each other, it was physical attraction and a really deep friendship. But not really love.

I guess some people could be satisfied with that as the basis for a long-term relationship or even marriage. I mean, you definitely need the friendship in there. I guess I just feel like there needs to be something in between the two if that makes any sense. The friendship, the attraction, and…and non-platonic love. And while I love Woody dearly as a friend, I don’t love him as more than that. I’ve really tried. I just…can’t.

And I think he had to finally admit that yes, he had in fact created this image of me in his head, and when reality set in and it became clear I wasn’t ever going to be that Jordan he saw…  
We tried. It just didn’t work.

Ultimately, we’re two very different people who come from two very different worlds. We’re good friends – the best of friends. And ok, the sex was pretty good, and he’s a good kisser. But for me, anything long-term is going to need a hell of a lot more than that.

I’d rather have Woody in my life as one of my best friends and have that friendship long-term than try to make anything romance-wise last long term. We’d end up killing each other…and the scary thing about that is we know how to do it and make it look like an accident.


	20. Kate Switzer

Kate blew into the office during this whole audit thing that went on after all the shit with Garret. Just like everyone else who’s come in she didn’t come in making friends. In a way she was a lot like Elaine, and I think that maybe our relationship has ended up like mine and Elaine’s would have if she’d lived.

Oh, I’m not saying we are going shopping or out partying or anything like that, but we’ve developed this respect for each other both personally and professionally that cuts through everything else.

The biggest breakthrough came when she ended up coming to babysit me after my surgery. Bug had gone missing and they were all trying to keep that from me so I wouldn’t get too upset, and she ended up coming over to keep an eye on me, make sure I took my meds, make sure I didn’t overdo or have a seizure – or, well, if I did have one I wasn’t alone and someone could get help to me or get me to help. It started out with me just tolerating her. Then I went to take a shower.

See, I’d been having hallucinations pretty much since I got home, but I didn’t want to say anything to anyone else about them. I knew they hadn’t been able to get all of the meningioma because it was too entangled with my carotid, and I knew that hallucinations were one of the symptoms of it (ok, let’s ignore that I hadn’t really had them prior to the surgery). And I didn’t want anyone to know that the surgery hadn’t worked.

But in the shower… Blood. Blood everywhere. I couldn’t tell if it was just coming from the showerhead or if it was coming from me. I just freaked out – that’s how vivid these hallucinations were, it’s like I knew they were just hallucinations, but at the same time I couldn’t tell where reality stopped and they started. I flipped out and sort of stumbled to the back of the shower where I slid down to the floor, knocking my shampoo and stuff onto the floor. I think it was the noise that brought Kate in there.

She was great – I have to admit that. After a moment of “what the fuck?” that crossed her face, she turned off the water, wrapped me up in a towel, and helped me get dressed. She got me to tell her what was going on, and I addressed it as the surgery not having worked. I then told her it was time for some of my meds.

She consulted the spreadsheet that Nigel created to keep track since of course they couldn’t all be “take every four hours” or something. She looked at what I was taking and immediately spotted the culprit. One of my meds had a side-effect of hallucinations. I was so focused on the meningioma I hadn’t even thought about my meds possibly being the cause. So since technically she’s a doctor I was under medical supervision, so we cut my dose in half as an experiment. The hallucinations started decreasing in frequency and intensity as my system balanced out – enough that I could go to Dr. Mendoza about finding an alternative.

Things were definitely better between us after that. Less adversarial anyway. Though when Garret named her the head of the D-Mort team that day, I was upset. I mean, I’d always been his go-to person in that case. But I have to admit, she did a great job. Held it more or less together and was able to do the hard stuff like take charge of all the food. As she put it “Everyone hates me anyway.” Hate is a strong word, but I know what she meant.

So yeah… Kate and I aren’t going drinking after work or anything, but we’ve developed a rapport that works for us. And keeps things pretty calm around the morgue.


	21. John Roberts - or whatever the hell his name was

Now that was a day none of us will forget. Garret took the call and gathered us all, explaining that there had been a bombing. No one knew at that moment how many people were inside – and if we would be finding survivors or victims.

We pulled up, and we just looked at what remained of the building. It was like what I imagine people in Oklahoma City must have felt.

Garret got the basics – as far as they knew no survivors, and the number of people inside – one hundred twelve.

He put me in charge of the recovery. Bug and Nigel were to grid the scene, and I was to help but basically oversee the recovery of bodies.

As we walked into the scene, all properly suited up to meet OSHA regulations, I gave the team my instructions for until the grid was sectioned off.

Rule number one: Don’t touch anything.

Rule number two: Don’t. Touch. Anything.

As they started gridding it out, I walked through the scene, getting a general picture of it.

And then a hand reached out from a wall and grabbed me.

“I’ve got a live one!”

I squatted down and could see a man on the other side of a wall. I started talking to him. He told me his name was John Roberts.

I told him we’d get him out. 

I lied. Oh, I didn’t know I was lying at the time. I found that out later when the ATF guy in charge of the overall scene told me that the wall was a retaining wall and there was no way to take enough of it down to free him without taking the whole building down with it.

The whole recovery process took well into two days, and I was with him the whole time. Someone finally brought something for me to sit on. I wasn’t going to leave him alone.

At the same time, they were running the prints of the hand they’d found in the van that was the flashpoint of the explosion. Bug did his rehydrating trick and found the3 fingerprint.

Which belonged to one John Roberts.

An African-American security guard.

I was talking to a Caucasian man with two hands.

Elaine gave me the news – I had been talking to the guy who set the bomb the entire time.

Going back over there took a lot. I’ll admit it. Part of me really wanted to just walk away, but I couldn’t. Even if he’d lied to me about who he was, we’d developed a relationship, and I couldn’t just abandon him. 

He was a person after all.

Finally he told me the whole story. He and his wife had had two little girls who were sickened by a power plant. Sickened so much that they died.

He and his wife contacted a law firm. The law firm in the building. They initially took the case, but eventually just kept stalling and kept stalling and finally basically told him and his wife to drop the lawsuit. That they weren’t going to get any compensation. 

His wife eventually committed suicide.

He set the bomb for revenge, but he drove the van into the garage at a time when he didn’t think anyone would be there. He just intended to damage the building. He didn’t know that the law firm was going to be there on a conference call to Japan.

As soon as he found that out – I guess he saw the lights on or something – he ran back to tell the guard. John Roberts died a hero trying to get the van out of there. He took the name from the guard’s tag.

He’d told me the song his wife used to sing to their daughters, and as I held his hand, as I could tell he was about to die, I started singing it to him.

I always knew that the world isn’t black and white. But that whole thing just confirmed for me that truly there is very little that is purely evil (I would say Hitler and Sadaam Hussein fall into that category of pure evil) in the world. There is almost always some deeper motivation that even if it doesn’t make sense to us does to the person committing the act.

And then sometimes it does make sense to us. I know I definitely understand the need for revenge. Even if I’m not exactly there emotionally anymore.


	22. Elaine Duchamps

Elaine came into our little morgue family like a hurricane – taking no prisoners and showing no signs of even trying to fit in. Or so I’ve heard. She actually came in while I was on my run looking for Redding.

And took over my desk and office.

But I definitely experienced the cold shoulder and not fitting in part. On more than one occasion.

I know she and Garret butted heads during the whole body recovery thing at the building. She definitely seemed to be all about the press and she actually addressed them after Garret specifically told her not to.

But she was the one who came to me and told me that the man I thought was John Robert wasn’t really John Roberts and was in fact the bomber. She was almost human when she was talking to me and giving me the rundown of what they knew.

And then there was the day of the snowstorm.

She and I were in autopsy along with Peter. I was supervising him and she was doing her own autopsy. Then Peter made the Y-incision and this yellow substance came out of the guy’s chest – we had no clue but could only assume it was a contagion. Meaning the three of us were suddenly quarantined in autopsy together, trying to figure out what was going on with only what we had access to in autopsy.

And then Peter started getting sick. So at that point we really thought it was the body and whatever had come out of it. Until one of our building security guys showed up dead as well. We’d figured out that the yellow substance related to the dead guy’s tumor, so at that point we figured that whatever was making people sick was not in autopsy but likely the entire building.

I left Peter under Elaine’s care and went to check on everyone else, only to find that Garret was getting sick. Just as we were trying to trace any possible contagion, Peter came in to tell me Elaine needed help.

Unfortunately, she was beyond our help. She died.

So there we were – stranded in the morgue in a possibly contaminated building with two people dead and two sick. I had no choice but to put myself in charge. I sent Bug and Nigel down to a doctor’s office to get some medicine, and they discovered a dead rat. Near a basket of baked goods a pharmaceutical rep had left – with them and with us. 

Bug and Nigel proceeded to autopsy the rat, and we eventually were able to figure out that it was an extremely virulent strain of E.coli.

We tried to ascertain who might have eaten something out of the basket (thank goodness for being too busy to grab anything, huh?), and did our best to take care of Peter and Garret.

Finally we saw people in haz-mat suits come in. We filled them in and Peter and Garret got airlifted to the hospital. They both ended up being ok, but I have honestly never been so scared in my entire life.

Of course, no one saw that while it was going on. If there’s one thing I’ve mastered it’s the ability to appear super calm and controlled in the midst of a crisis affecting other people (not so much in my own life) – at least until the crisis is over. 

That’s when I break.

And break I did over Elaine’s body. Just when I was starting to feel like we were making progress, like we all were, we lost her.

And in cleaning out her desk to return it to me and in doing her autopsy, we discovered things we never knew about her – and how in little ways she was a little like each of us.

You’d think working in the death industry such as we do we’d get the fragility of life and the necessity of connections with others.

But somehow we never seem to learn when it comes to new people.


	23. Devan Maguire

Devan came into the morgue as a resident completing her program. And if we thought Elaine came in like a hurricane, we hadn’t seen anything yet.

Again, I missed the joyous first days of Devan’s tenure with us. I was selected to be our rep at a convention out of state. 

And she caught this case going to make a notification… Ended up in the middle of some anti-terrorism exercise or something. I never did figure the whole thing out hearing versions from Garret, Nigel, Woody, and Devan. But she opted to stay with us rather than taking a transfer.

Dear god, the girl could be infuriating. She had almost everyone jumping at her beck and call – Nigel even took to calling her Madame.

She was the antithesis of me – bubbly, bouncy…spending ridiculous amounts of money on shoes. Clearly came from money – she actually went to boarding school in Switzerland (who knew those even really existed????). 

And yet…in some ways she was just like me. Always pushing to find the answers – even if in a more cheerleader-y type of way.

After a long, hard day one time Lily and I took her to the Pogue for drinks, but that was really the only time I just hung out with her.

She and Woody…well… Yeah. I’ll just say don’t believe Woody’s sob story that he “waited” for me for [insert his random changing number here] years. He didn’t. But I digress.

It’s no secret that Devan and I clashed. Maybe in some ways we were too much alike, I don’t know. But… But even I knew better than to do what I did that night…

I had just fallen asleep after pulling a double. Devan was scheduled to work the graveyard shift. But my phone rang (and like an idiot I answered). It was Devan. She was asking me to cover for her.

I told her no. I pretty much yelled at her. She asked me – and I will never forget this as long as I live – she said “Please Jordan? Do it as a friend.”

And without blinking, I said “We’re not friends.” and hung up on her. (May I just insert here that “hanging up” on someone with a cell or even a cordless phone is highly unsatisfying? You don’t get that slam that you used to get with the bold corded phones. Really sucks sometimes!)

She tried to call me back, and I didn’t answer that time.

But I did get up and go in. I somehow thought she was just going to be late – not that she wasn’t going to make it in at all. But there you are.

We got notification of a small plane crash, and Garret took Bug and Nigel with him (Woody was going with the PD). I was left back to deal with notifications and everything that needed to be done on the morgue end. We all thought it was going to be just another mass fatality (not meaning to make light of them at all – I just mean we thought it was going to be standard).

Garret knew I was going to need some help back at the morgue – we were in touch by phone – and he told me to call Devan and tell her she needed to get her ass into the morgue STAT. So I grabbed my phone and dialed her cell.

And then on the other end I heard Garret’s voice.

He was holding her cell phone in his hand. Which meant that she was on that plane – or at least her purse was – with no survivors.

I had to do the notification. Lily offered, but I needed to do it. With Garret on the scene and me in charge, I was the closest thing to a supervisor. I told her as gently as I could over the phone and asked her to come in. I didn’t tell her this part, but it was so that if a body was recovered…

When she got there, I took her into Garret’s office to talk with her. The Devan she spoke about… I don’t know…maybe we didn’t look hard enough to see beyond the first impression. And then her mother looked at me.

“You’re Jordan!” she said.

“Um, yes…” I said.

“She talked about you all the time,” she said.

I barely heard the rest of what she said. My mind was reeling. At best I’d tolerated Devan. But I would hardly call anything I’d done more than that. But she…

And the worst part of it was that I knew better than to end a conversation on a bad note. I mean, after…

Oh no. You’re not going to trick me into… No.

I guess Devan was one of those people who was a lot more than what she seemed. Kind of like Elaine. You’d think we’d have learned…


	24. Tallulah "Lu" Simmons

I really didn’t think Lu was going to end up having her own chapter in this thing. I figured she’d be kind of a footnote in Woody’s – she was sleeping with him after all. While he and I were supposedly figuring things out. 

To say Lu and my relationship was “contentious” would pretty much be the understatement of the century. When JD was murdered, she was all set to lock me up and throw away the key the moment my hands tested positive for gunshot residue. She didn’t want to consider any other evidence (ever hear of a little thing called innocent until PROVEN guilty there Lu?), she just focused on the stuff that fit her picture of me killing him. (Added convenience of getting me out of the way so she could have Woody all to herself, but I may be reaching with that theory…)

Obviously the evidence eventually proved that I didn’t do it – the scene had been carefully orchestrated to make it seem like I had done it, but once all the tests were in… Sorry Lu. You don’t get me out of the picture that easily. So yeah, all charges were dropped. But you know…I don’t think I ever got an apology from her.

Well, at least not until…

Not until the riots. Oh god, that night was crazy. A kid was shot and killed with 33 cop bullets. A little kid! All because one over eager guy thought he saw a gun in the kid’s hands. Yeah…it was part of a model airplane.

Understandably the city went batshit crazy with riots, a curfew and all the fun stuff that comes with a situation like that. Once we figured out what the kid was holding, Woody and Lu decided to chance the riots to search the alley. They ended up being shot at and the car damaged beyond drivability. Against Garret’s wishes (and maybe even orders, but I wasn’t paying attention at that particular moment) I took off in the morgue van to get them out of there.

Turns out Lu was hit, but she didn’t say anything to Woody. We figured it out when I got there and they moved to get in the van. We knew we had to risk all the craziness to get her to the hospital – there was no way an ambulance would have gotten through even just to us in time.

Since I was the one with a medical background, I got in the back with Lu and Woody drove as fast as he could.

I did what little I could with that few supplies would help someone alive I could find. It’s not like a morgue transport van is really equipped to save lives. I tried to keep her awake and talking and then she came out with “I feel calm.”

What the… I told her no, she did NOT feel calm. She wasn’t allowed to feel calm. Her eyes kept closing, and I was helpless to do anything. I had nothing to keep someone from dying back there. Just my efforts to keep her awake and talking to me.

She motioned for me to come closer and told me to tell Woody she loved him and she was sorry she messed everything up. I shook my head and said I wouldn’t. That she could tell him herself when we got to the hospital. 

But she didn’t. She went and died right in front of me. I couldn’t do anything to stop it, to save her.

When we got to the hospital and Woody came to open the doors, he found me crying and knew without me even saying anything. I don’t know if he blamed me for not being able to save her. He never said.

He didn’t have to blame me though. I blamed myself enough for both of us.


	25. John Douglas "J.D." Pollack

Well, it looks like I’ve inadvertently made a whole little section of “people who died before I knew who they really were or let them get to know me”, so I should probably wrap it up with someone who is a little more… But someone who I lost all the same – with uncertain feelings between us, not sure how things were going to happen.

This one’s likely to get a little complicated, so…buckle your seat belt.

When I first met J.D. Pollack, he was just another pain in my ass reporter getting in the way of me doing my job. I never saw anything coming of meeting him at all. And then…

And then I got called to the scene of the death of Eli Graham’s wife and son. Deaths which we strongly suspected were not natural. As usual, the police were less than receptive to my theories (seems to happen when Woody’s not working my cases). But also as usual I didn’t let it lie.

And J.D. and I ended up going undercover to this cult headquarters, working our way in by posing as a couple having issues in our marriage. Of course Graham needed to “assess” us, so we ended up kissing. Awkwardly at best. But I ended up finding and saving his other son, and…

And that night, Pollack showed up at my apartment. And kissed me. Not awkwardly. And I let him.

Over and over.

And I let him do more than just kiss me. And damn it felt good. 

It was good,

Hell, if I’m being honest, it ranked right up there with when I was together with Eddie back before all the shit with Dad.

I mean, I gave him a key to my apartment. 

Did you get that Howie?

A KEY!

Do you have any idea how rare that is for me to even consider?

And then there was the whole Ryan Kessler case. Woody and I went up with her, trying to catch a copycat. And she managed to escape. And get into my apartment where she tied up Pollack and held him at gunpoint. And then forced me to shoot her to save him. Granted I didn’t kill her like she wanted, but I did save him.

And then things started getting complicated. (I know, I know…when aren’t things complicated with me? But bear with me here.)

It really looked like Woody had planted evidence, and I was doing my best to prove he hadn’t while keeping Pollack off the scent. And keeping them from killing each other. I don’t take being seen as property – or a guy “owning” me – lightly or kindly. I didn’t see it as doing anything besides my job…finding the answers that needed to be found.

But Pollack seemed to. I remember part of that conversation we had later that night after everything got resolved. 

He looked at me and said “Love is like malaria. Once it’s under your skin it’s never really gone. It just goes dormant. Sometimes for years. Then when you least expect it, it’s back.”

Yeah, a real charmer wasn’t he.

Only… Only he was.

I mean… I don’t know. There was this connection. A connection pretty much unlike anything I’ve ever felt before except maybe with Eddie.

And predictably, I started freaking out. 

I caught a case that led me to another where a woman supposedly died years before. But as it turns out, she had faked her death and dropped off the grid. I found her, and we talked for a long time. And then she said something…

“You know you’re really loved when you see yourself reflected, really reflected in the other person’s eyes, and you know it’s the same for them.”

And it made me think.

And test J.D. 

That night, when we were home and he was trying to tempt me with a bottle of wine, I asked him to look in my eyes and tell me what he saw. He said something about “beautiful eyes belonging to a woman…who really wants half of this bottle of wine…” And then he realized something, probably from my non-reaction. “I failed a test, didn’t I?”

And yet, he still had a key. A key to my door, and as much as I hated to admit it, a key to my heart. Bluntly put, J.D. had gotten further into my heart than pretty much anyone else ever. Possible exception being Eddie.

And so what do I go and do? I sabotage it.

Oh, I didn’t consciously intend to sabotage it. But…

Woody caught a case out in the mountains somewhere – it was their first homicide in a while and they’d called Boston for “reinforcements” or something like that. And of course Woody talked to Garret and got me assigned to it. 

So there we were driving up to this Bed and Breakfast. Where we ended up snowed in and found that there was only one room left in the inn. With one bed.

The first night we managed fine. Other than having to listen to this honeymooning couple go at it. All. Night. Long.

But then we had to stay there an extra night and… Well, the details are better outlined in another chapter. But here suffice it to say I did things that I suspected would sabotage my relationship with J.D.

J.D. who had said he wanted to take me to dinner and talk about things. J.D. who had talked to Nigel who said something about knowing who you’re supposed to be with when you don’t want another day diminished or something. And J.D. who bought a ring.

A friggin ring!

Not that I knew about that until after he’d left town. And Woody spilled that J.D. had bought a ring

Then there was the shit hit the fan.

After Garret got arrested on a DUI, we had to figure out one of his old cases where the ultimate result was being questioned. And given some new evidence, we were…well, we were acting out the crime a la the Cavanaugh family players when there was a Cavanaugh family.

And J.D. came in. And picked up on the tension that was there.

He called me on it later in the loft. And… And he said that we he thought we could get through it. We could move past it. As long as I could say that whatever had happened with Woody – he knew something had, but he wasn’t asking for details – as long as I could say it didn’t mean anything.

God, I wish I could have said something right then. But I needed thinking time. And J.D. wasn’t…well, he interpreted my thinking time as… I don’t know what. But…

The next thing I knew I came back and he was sitting on the floor outside my door. He hadn’t used his key intentionally because he wanted me to be there. He was going to Washington. D.C. On assignment with an indefinite end date.

I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I was caught totally off-guard by this. (I should point out I didn’t know about the ring and impending proposal at that time.) And I didn’t know what to do but let him go. Who was I to stand in the way of someone’s job?

I called him once – well, ok, more than once. I had to admit it, I missed him. But I chickened out every time. Hung up before I got an answer. And then he promptly called me back. Said he thought we were beyond the junior high call and hang up thing. It was an awkward conversation at best.

But it got easier. I mean, I don’t know where things would have gone if…

He did come back for Lily’s wedding. We went to the rehearsal party together – had a blast dancing together. We didn’t really talk about things, but we kissed. A lot. And more. And…

And then the next thing I knew Lily was knocking on the door to wake me up so we could start getting ready. I had the headache from hell, which seemed weird because yes, I’d been drinking but not by any amount that should have left me with that much of a hangover.

Then I took note of what was going on around me. Or not as the case might be. 

J.D. was laying on the bed beside me. NOT breathing. Shot. Dead.

And I had blood splatter on me and a gun in my hands.

And no recollection of what had happened the night before.

Obviously the cops were called. And clearly I was the prime suspect – I also had gunshot residue on my hand. Actually I was the ONLY suspect in Lu’s eyes.

Yep. Of all people to catch the case. The person sleeping with my ex-almost-something or whatever the hell Woody and I were at that point. It was pretty obvious even if I hadn’t walked in on them kissing in his new office. (And he was all about he didn’t want to be my rebound guy? Guess he doesn’t mind making someone else his rebound girl, huh?)

To say she pursued the case vigorously would be the understatement of the century. Garret and Nigel tried to help me as much as they could, but we were fighting an uphill battle. Woody kind of tried to help, but he got shut out of a lot of the investigation too because of our relationship.

Eventually we figured out that J.D. had been working on a story about a corrupt judge who’d been appointed to the federal bench. And those responsible for getting him there through a series of bribes wanted to make sure the story never came to light. 

Said judge ended up committing suicide by jumping out of his window just as Garret and I had gotten outside with a bit of information that might help.

And finally, finally we managed to piece everything together. The intention had been to drug J.D. via his drink at the party. Only we ended up switching drinks because mine was way too strong. 

We left the party heading to our room, but we did have a bit of a screaming match because I’d found out he had stolen my access card and that’s how he got information to back up the story he was working on about the judge. But everyone who knows me kept saying that even for me killing him would be extreme (thanks for your love and support there guys…talk about a backhanded compliment!) so we kept searching for other answers.

Finally we figured out what I’d been drugged with – it acts like a date rape drug in that it knocks you out and you have no memory of what happened, but it’s not used as much because it has this unfortunate side-effect. You get sick just before you pass out. The forensic search of the bathroom proved that out. As did the whole splatter pattern which made it clear I could not have done it. Basically I’d thrown up with J.D. right there holding me. We figure he’d heard something and went to investigate at which point there was a gunshot that missed. They found me, and fired the fatal bullet with my hand, then put me on the bed next to him.

Between J.D.’s expository article he was writing and the forensic evidence, there was no alternative for the District Attorney but to drop all charges against me.

After all that, I went to the morgue. I needed to see him. I mean… I did love him. And that… Come on Stiles. You know my issues with the L-word! 

Ok. I did love him. And that scared the hell out of me. 

I don’t know what I would have said if the Lucy Carver Inn hadn’t happened…or I’d been able to say that what happened with Woody didn’t mean anything…or if he hadn’t left town…if he’d actually asked me to marry him. I might well have said yes. I mean, we were happy together most of the time. I’ve got pictures from a photo booth that prove it. Two of them…I put the other two in the bag with his body.

Even I know that the smile on my face in those pictures is genuine. And for me? That’s a rarity. There’s only been one other person I’ve been involved with who’s put a genuine smile on my face. But…

And yes, I really do miss him. A lot.


	26. Emily Catherine Lowell Cavanaugh

Ok, so I’m finally getting up the courage to write about Mom. Yes, she probably should be put more at the beginning, but it’s hard… I had to be ready.

My mom was raised among Beacon Hill stock – private school, the butler, the nanny, riding lessons…basically everything that goes along with that life. Anything money could buy.

Except sanity.

I was only ten when she was killed, so most of what I know about her I’ve had to piece together from talking to Dad and talking a little to my grandmother.

Mom had her issues with the trappings of society early on from every indication – she met Dad (and Malden…hooray) when she and a couple of friends decided to go to a church-sponsored dance in South Boston. Lord only knows what they told their parents, because I know none of them would have approved. I guess the other girls had their fun and that was that, but not Mom.

From all Dad knew, he was her first…but Malden couldn’t have been that far behind if he was behind at all. Regardless, Mom ended up pregnant at 15 – and either way it was by an (in my grandparents’ eyes) undereducated and underclass cop. How they didn’t file some kind of lawsuit is beyond me – or maybe they did and the settlement was Dad stepping up. 

I don’t know what all kinds of plans Grandmother and Grandfather had for Mom – I do know that there was a lot of money set aside for college, for a big wedding…stuff that didn’t happen. The indication is that it’s been now set aside for me…not that I used it for college or med school, and not that there’s a wedding anywhere on the horizon. But I can guarantee you that her getting pregnant at 15 by a just out of the academy rookie beat cop was NOT it.

Still, Dad was old enough and whether he knew about Malden or not (as I’ve already said in his section, I really think he didn’t), he stepped up to the plate and married her. I think the ceremony was small – it was in the church, but NOT the big nuptial mass I’m sure the Lowells envisioned for their baby.

And then James was born. And while no one really used the term back then, from all I’ve been able to gather I’d say whatever mental instability Mom had came out big time as massive post-partum depression. Given the way Dad reacted to the Andrea Yates case, I’m definitely inclined to believe that she did try to drown James. And I can only guess that she believed she’d succeeded when she came out of whatever state she was in since I never heard about him. I wouldn’t think that she could have believed she imagined having him – no matter how mentally fucked up she was.

I don’t know if she went to Summit View or anywhere else after that, or if Dad just did what he could to take care of her until she seemed ok again. I do know that he’s said he and Grandmother differed on how to best take care of her – he never went into specifics as to who wanted what. My guess based on what did happen when I was five is that Dad pushed for medical intervention of whatever form it took (which probably at that time would have been drugs and electro-convulsive therapy), and Grandmother wanted to just sweep it under the rug like people in polite society did. Maybe send her off to rest somewhere fancy for a little while where the words mental illness would never be uttered.

I was born when Mom was 22 (again, I can do math). Actually, until James, I never knew Mom and Dad had been married for five years before I was born. I guess I never paid attention to what they said on their anniversary and I never bothered to poke into it after. I mean, why would I have had a need to know that? From all the pictures we have, she was ok after me – I do know from Dad’s friends and pictures and stuff that Dad tried to be home as much as he could, especially early on. Probably to prevent what happened from happening again if he could help it.

I was about three or four when I remember Mom starting to get “tired” or “sad” a lot, so I’d end up playing quietly by myself or coloring. Or she’d take me over to her mother’s house or some friends she’d grown up with – like the Montgomerys – house and I’d play there. I kind of remember baking cookies with Grandmother. And I do remember going to my grandparents’ house on the Cape once or twice – of course it wasn’t a cottage but a mini-mansion.

And then when I was five things got really bad. I remember coloring at the table while she cried at the sink. And nothing I could do would cheer her up. She would sing “Someone To Watch Over Me” a lot. I tried to stay quiet and out of the way as much as I could, and I’d go to the precinct with Dad as much as we could make that work.

And then one night I heard crying coming from upstairs. Well, singing and crying. I knew it was her, and I wanted to help her. I went up the stairs and followed her voice to the bathroom in the hall. I opened the door and the first thing I saw was the broken mirror. Then I saw Mommy sitting on the floor against the wall next to the tub. She had some of the broken mirror in her hand and there was blood. I don’t know if she was cutting her hair or her skin or what. But I screamed. Dad came running up the stairs. As soon as he saw the scene, he scooped me up and put me in my room, telling me to stay there for a minute. Then he wrapped up Mom’s hands and arms as best he could before calling his parents to come and get me. (First, they lived close by and second, that meant he didn’t have to deal with Grandmother at that point and could focus on Mom.) That’s when I know she went to Summit View. I guess that’s when she had the miscarriage.

Funny…now that I think about it, that’s about the same time that I remember the night I was trying to stay awake until Dad got home. I was in my bed, but not sleeping. I heard the door open and close. I heard voices – a man’s and a woman’s. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs as quietly as I could thinking Daddy was home. I could hear the voices laughing and… But then I saw the kitchen table. A Yankees cap was sitting on it, and I knew for a fact that we would NEVER have a Yankees cap in the house. Dad trained me early. Yankees are evil and must be destroyed. I didn’t know who it was (now I do – Malden), but I knew it wasn’t Dad. Which meant that love wasn’t safe. Even at five I understood that Mom was doing something that was going to hurt Dad – even if I couldn’t articulate it at the time. I ran back upstairs and buried my head under my pillows and covers so I couldn’t hear them. 

It’s not like it was all bad times. I mean, Christmas when I was five was great. Mom was home from Summit View (I didn’t know that’s where she was at the time) and she seemed to be doing a lot better. We went to midnight mass as we usually did on Christmas Eve, and I fell asleep as usual. It had started snowing while we were in service, and when we got home, Dad woke me up to put snow clothes on me – Mom protested, but he said Christmas snow was magic and I needed to experience it. I wanted her to come outside with us, but she said no, Dad and I could go outside together. So we did for a little while, but I ran back to the house eventually and grabbed Mom’s hand and made her put on her coat. She came outside and we walked around the neighborhood looking at the lights and the snow, then went back to our house and made snow angels and threw snowballs for a little while. When we went inside, Mom went to the kitchen and brought out the cookies and hot chocolate she’d made. She even put candy canes in the hot chocolate! Dad built a fire in the fireplace, and we sat there eating and drinking and laughing until I fell asleep. Dad was right. That Christmas snow WAS magical.

And then I turned ten. Ok, yes, stuff happened in between, but let’s just go with the significant stuff shall we? My birthday itself was really nice. I still have the picture of us with my cake. We all actually look happy. Mom gave me a pair of shoes. I know it may seem like a weird thing, but I really wanted this particular kind, and even if I didn’t know a lot, I knew that it would be a reach with the money we usually had. But somehow she made it work and I got them.

A week later I would be wishing I had never asked for them in the first place.

Mom had asked me not to wear my shoes immediately. She had gotten them slightly big for me so that I could wear out my others first. But I wanted to wear them so badly. I managed to hold off for a week, but then I couldn’t stand waiting anymore and I put them on before I went down for breakfast.

“Jordan, go change your shoes,” Mom said. “You know…”

“No, Mom,” I said. “They’re mine! You gave them to me! I want to wear them!”

Mom sighed, but decided to give it a rest until after breakfast, then she told me to go and change them again. Dad had already eaten and was getting ready for work – I think that’s why he wasn’t involved in the whole discussion. Well, a discussion that ended in a screaming match with me running upstairs and slamming my door.

I stayed there until Dad came to get me. When I opened the door, I glared at him. “I’m not taking them off,” I said. “They’re mine.”

He nodded. “I know they are,” he said. “And I talked to Mom. She’s not happy, but she’s not going to fight you on wearing them.”

I nodded, then grabbed my backpack and went downstairs. Mom came out of the kitchen while I was putting my jacket on – it may have been September 18, but it was chilly that day…cold enough to see your breath.

I wouldn’t look at her.

“I’m sorry baby,” she said, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me.

I just stood there. Didn’t move and certainly didn’t hug her back.

“Be safe,” she said, kissing my head. (We never said “Good-bye”, none of us. It was too final.) 

When she let go, I stepped out on the porch and waited for Dad. After he kissed Mom and hugged her, he stepped outside and I took his hand, holding it tightly all the way to St. Anne’s School. He didn’t try to make me talk or anything.

But I have to admit, by the time we were sitting in chapel, I was feeling bad. I knew I shouldn’t have yelled at Mom. I knew I should have hugged her back. Hell, I was the child of a cop! I knew better than to leave things unsaid or angry. But since I didn’t say “Good-bye” I thought things would be ok. I swore to God right there in chapel that I would hug Mom and love her and apologize and do whatever I needed to in order to make and keep her happy when I got home.

Then, in the middle of math, I saw the principal and a cop in a uniform in the hallway outside my classroom. They knocked on the window and motioned for Sister Agnes to join them.  
I knew they were there for me. They wouldn’t send a cop for something that didn’t involve a cop’s child. And I was the only cop’s child in my class. Without thinking, I started packing up my books. I was about to go to the closet and get my backpack and jacket when the door opened.

“Jordan?” Sister Agnes’s soft voice sounded like she was underwater – or I was. 

I just stood there for a moment, my feet frozen to the ground. A cop there meant something had happened to my Dad. But it couldn’t have! I hadn’t said “Good-bye” to him! I’d told him be safe and I’d see him later.

I started to bolt for the door, but the cop – Officer Jackman – caught me and held onto me.

“Jordan,” Sister Agnes said again, her soft voice even more gentle than usual. “Sweetheart, the officer is going to take you home. Something…”

I remember screaming, not letting her finish what she was going to say. Or at least not letting me hear it – I remember seeing her lips moving. I had run to the closet and gotten my sweater – I think they ended up sending my backpack home with Kim. They somehow managed to wrestle me into the sweater without me bolting for the door.

Officer Jackman held my hand as we walked from the school to my house. He kept a firm grip on me, but once I could see the house and all the cop cars outside, I jerked my hand free from his and ran towards the house.

“Mommy! Mommy!!!” I screamed, still convinced that something had happened to Daddy.

I ran through the open door and squirmed my way through all the uniforms standing around (or it seemed to me like they were just standing around – they were in my way regardless) until I got to the living room.

Mom. Laying there on the floor. Not moving. Red all over her chest, all over the floor near her. And you couldn’t see her breath.

You could see everyone’s breath. But you couldn’t see her breath.

I heard Daddy’s voice coming from the kitchen and tried to get to him, but I couldn’t get there. His friends were with him, but he looked angry. Angrier than I’d ever seen him in my life. They were putting his hands behind his back and…

No! Why were they putting handcuffs on him? Daddy loved Mommy! There was no way he could have…

“Daddy!”

“Jordan!”

“Daddy!”

“Jordan! Let me go…” But the cops, his friends…they shoved him out the door.

And then big hands landed on my shoulders.

Daddy’s friend (or so I thought) Malden.

“Come on Jordan,” he said, reaching for my hand.

I pulled back from him. “No!” I yelled. It wasn’t that I thought he might be involved. I didn’t want to leave my house, my Mommy. Or at the very least I wanted to go with my Daddy.

But he was bigger and stronger. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and half-carried me to his car even as I was kicking and screaming. He was smart enough to hold me just out of range of my mouth or I would have bitten him – but I’m pretty sure he had bruises on his shins for a while.

He put me in the car and drove me to Child Protective Services. They took me to this home that was something between home-home and a foster home – I guess their intent was that Daddy would immediately be given a form to state where he wanted me to be taken. I guess I should be glad I wasn’t immediately hauled off to Grandmother’s – though Daddy’s parents’ wouldn’t have been bad. I was in that place for at least a day before finally Kim’s mom was allowed to come and get me – I guess Daddy figured I needed to be around a friend then.

After a couple of days, they finally let Daddy come and get me, and we were able to go home. But it was a sad trip, and things stayed sad for a long time. I don’t really remember a lot – Dad says I never cried. I don’t remember if I did or not.

I do remember Father Michaelson saying that Mom’s death was “God’s will” – and that was pretty much it between me and God. I mean, if God’s will was to take a mother from a child, then that wasn’t a God I wanted anything to do with. I still went through the motions of all the church stuff I had left – which was really just confirmation. For years I thought the rosary I was given that day was from Mom. I only learned recently Dad had bought it for me on the day I was born – it’s an old Irish tradition he said. But between me not really feeling it and Dad picking up hours when he could – especially since I didn’t really care if we went to church – motions was all it really was.

And then it wasn’t long before Grandmother started making noises about trying to take me away. She cited all kinds of things – Dad’s job with its danger and unconventional hours, me being a girl and needing a female influence, I don’t remember her specifically mentioning money but knowing her I’m sure it was up there on her agenda. Dad got the best lawyer he could afford, but honestly we were both scared to death that there was no way it would be enough against her and her money. Finally I started doing the only thing I thought might work – when I was with Dad, which was as much as possible, I’d be good as gold. Did my homework. Made dinner. Stayed put where I was supposed to be. Model child. When I was with Grandmother though, I would act like a little holy terror. Refuse to do homework. Talk back. Act out. One time I even snuck out of the mansion and took myself to Dad’s precinct on the T. At eleven. Granted that whole thing could have backfired and I could have found my butt sent off to boarding school in Switzerland before anyone could say boo, but for whatever reason Grandmother suddenly just dropped the whole idea. 

Maybe I reminded her too much of Mom and she didn’t want a repeat?

I know I put up a tough front. It’s the only way I know to survive. But inside? Inside it hurts bad. I’m a motherless child. And I just can’t seem to remember her voice outside of the song that haunts my nightmares.


	27. Kayla Dawsom

Maybe that whole thing with Mom is why I felt so drawn to Kayla. I still remember the night her father was killed and I found her standing there in her apartment, her father’s body on the floor, a gun in her hand. I knew she hadn’t done it. 

Didn’t take us long to prove that one. A couple of shots fired at her and everyone else was finally convinced she hadn’t done it.

But she was all alone. Her mother had died when she was little. No other family.

Child Protective Services said they’d do what they could, but finding a placement for a teenager was tough. They let her stay with me at the beginning while they were trying to find a placement. 

And it worked – we were connecting, she was opening up to me, she was even sleeping at my place and lord knows I know how hard it is to sleep after seeing a parent lying dead on the floor.

No, it wasn’t easy. We had arguments in the morning over her getting going and out of the bathroom. Even over her outfit – yeah, let me tell you how I beat myself up over that one. Spent the whole day worried as hell until she came to the morgue after school and I knew she was ok. Still, I didn’t think I could do it – could be a mom to a teenager. Not even when her social worker said it could be a possibility. My life isn’t kid-friendly. We were doing ok with things as they were.

And then CPS called.

They’d found a placement for her. God, Kayla cried when I told her. While she was packing. All the way to CPS. While we were waiting, she begged me to keep her. She promised to behave. She said she’d wear whatever I wanted her to, she’d do whatever I needed her to. Just don’t make her go away. I didn’t think I had a choice.

And then I saw them. The couple who were going to be taking this vibrant, spunky young girl into their home where there were already something like three or four foster kids. They were older – like not quite Grandmother older, but…well, yeah. I stood outside the room, looking through the glass. Kayla looked at me, and her face broke my heart.

“What do I have to do?” I asked, walking back into the room. “To keep her. What do I have to do?”

In addition to Kayla’s hug, I got a pile of paperwork to go through along with information on things they would need from my boss, character references, all that stuff. I was scared shitless, but I felt like I could do it.

Turns out I was about the only one. Garret was less than supportive – to my face anyway. He said later that he did back me in the interview to the degree that he could. Ah the lovely employment record. 

And then there were Bug, Lily, and Nigel. Three people who I thought were really my friends. Laughing about me and my perceived by them lack of parenting skills. So I have issues with plants. So I order take-out more often than not. It’s fucking lonely and silly cooking for one, so take-out is just easier. They didn’t know I’d come in until I had heard everything. Talk about hurting like hell.

Amazingly, as difficult as things were between us, Woody ended up being my strongest backer. Granted, it didn’t matter in the end.

Turns out Kayla’s mother wasn’t dead. She’d been in rehab and other things finding herself and getting herself ready to be able to be a mother to Kayla. Granted she didn’t know if she could do it, and Kayla didn’t know her at all, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter. She had a blood relative willing and able to take her back. It broke my heart to let her go, but I know how much a girl needs a mother, especially when that girl is a teenager.

Woody’s letter was fantastic. For all our issues he really had my back in that letter. It went a long way towards mending things between us. At least in our friendship.

Kayla’s mother decided to stay in Boston so she could stay at her school and with her friends. And she’s been very generous about letting the two of us hang out from time to time, so that’s made things a little easier.

I honestly never saw myself as a mother – I mean, I had no real role model for how to be a mother, my crazy job and hours are NOT child friendly, my at times questionable mental state. But Kayla changed all of that. Kayla proved I can care for a child and take care of a child – or at least a teenager. That I can care for and love someone else – and have them care for and love me in return.

Between Kayla and J.D. I have to say I think I’m growing and learning.


	28. And life goes on...

So… There’s some stuff that has happened since I started doing this whole thing. And I guess I should talk about it in here. Just…I’m still kind of working through it all and what it all means right now, so if may be kind of disjointed. And not really one-person focused…I don’t think. Just more of a traditional journal of what’s going on.

Ok…

Like I already said, once we got back to Boston after the crash, Woody and I did try the dating thing. Yes, I really did try. And yes, beyond just “Let’s grab a pizza and have sex.”

But ultimately we both had to agree – even Woody finally admitted it – that anything other than us being great friends wouldn’t work long-term. Sure, the sex was hot. But lord knows I know from experience that hot sex isn’t enough to sustain a relationship long-term. Not even if there’s great friendship in there also. There has to be something in between the two that makes them fit together. I was pretty close to finding all the puzzle pieces and fitting them all together with J.D. Closer than I’d ever been to it since…

You know, it’s funny. Early into Woody’s time here in Boston, I would have said – and probably did – that we’d never work because we were so different. Based on the persona he presented from day one, I wasn’t stupid for thinking that. Come to find out that in all actuality, we might have been too similar. We both had a history of secrets – mine was family-based and partly of necessity or lack of knowledge on my part, his was family-based true, but his was completely of his own making. This whole history of secrets and lies. I know I can’t speak for Woody and how he felt, but I know that I would always be questioning what he told me about his family, about other women…probably more often than not as much as I hate to admit it. I never hid the fact that there were secrets in my life – and I certainly never hid the fact that my mother was dead. I mean, how the hell do you just pretend that everything is ok and never bother mentioning anything about your parents both being dead when you’re trying to get closer to someone? Especially if that someone also lost a parent and would totally get it? I don’t understand his reasoning there, but... Moot point now.

So yeah, it was a tough conversation. And yeah, it was awkward when we decided to quit trying to make it work romantically. After all, for the first time I wasn’t running out on the end of a relationship after a non-obvious reason (such as talking to Internal Affairs or dying). It really wasn’t so much a break-up but more along the lines of a conversation like “I really think we’re better – we work better – as friends.”

But yeah. Surprisingly we both acted like adults about it, and after a few awkward encounters over cases or bumping into each other in the morgue or precinct, we do seem to have settled into something…comfortable.

I honestly figured that after the whole thing with Woody and the way all my other relationships have gone, I was just better off single. It just seemed to be easier all the way around.

And then… Well… Remember when I was talking about J.D. and I said there was only one other person I’d ever been involved with who put a genuine smile on my face? Well…

I was the next one up to take a call when one came in one day at the morgue. Just happened that the next one that came in was something else up on the Appalachian Trail, so the combination of me being up next and me having probably the most experience working cases up there , everything fell into place for me to take it. I had no clue going up there who the detective in charge was. I knew who it wasn’t – Woody was working a case with Bug, Seely transferred departments, Phil had finally had to face the music and wasn’t allowed to work with women, Lois was on vacation… My best guess was Cruz or Santana.

I was totally not prepared to see Eddie Winslow when I stepped out of the car. Combination of luck of the draw and the fact that as lieutenant he usually spent more time in the precinct than the field, we hadn’t worked together in ages. But it was great to finally be able to say that I was seeing a friendly face when he looked up and smiled and waved me over. 

As much as I wouldn’t have admitted it once upon a time, hell as much as I sometimes don’t want to admit it now, I do like working with Eddie. He’s honest and he works hard. And he really does have the best of intentions. I mean, even though he did go to Internal Affairs about Dad (See how much I’ve grown? No more saying “ratted him out”!) I know he was doing what he thought was best. And he’s warmed up to me digging into the cases deeper than some medical examiners might be interested in or willing to. So weirdly, we work well together. Who would have guessed?

Anyway… The details of the case we were working aren’t important. We did have to go back and forth a lot – just getting details from the site, looking at the area, stuff that normally wouldn’t have been a big deal in Boston, but that was a lot of travel time. So we usually ended up riding together. So that gave us a lot of talking time, and we pretty much got caught up on each other’s lives.

Once we wrapped the loose ends at the trail site up and were heading back to Boston, Eddie looked over at me.

“Want to grab dinner later?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. I mean, what could it hurt? It’s not like he said it was a date. It was two friends grabbing dinner. Friends do that all the time.

We met at a little Italian place on the North End – a little family-owned place that was nice but not too romantic. I mean, this was just going to be two old friends having dinner together.

We talked throughout the meal, just generic small-talk stuff and chatting about life in general, catching up on each other’s lives that we hadn’t gotten to on our drives back and forth. Because really even though we’d worked together on various cases since I’d gotten back, we really had lost touch. It was nice to be able to talk to someone like that – someone who knew me from even before Garret did, and someone I didn’t have to really explain anything about me to. And it’s mutual. I mean, Eddie has his skeletons as well – though those aren’t my story to share. But unlike the thing with Woody where he had kept his hidden, Eddie had been pretty open from the start, possibly to help me be more comfortable with all my skeletons.

When we finished dinner, Eddie suggested going for a walk down by the water, and that seemed fine. It was nice to feel…normal. No pressure for anything, just two friends hanging out together.

And then…

We grabbed some coffee and sat down on one of the benches facing the river to keep talking. We’d each sort of turned towards the center of the bench to face each other.

“You ever wonder what if Jor?” Eddie asked.

“What if…” I asked. “Like what if Mom hadn’t been killed? Or what if I’d sucked it up and done the rest of my cardio rotation? Or what if…”

“I hadn’t ratted out your dad?” Eddie asked, finishing the question in his own way.

I sighed. “Eddie, you know, I stopped saying ‘ratted out’ a few years ago.”

He looked at me and chuckled. “Ok. Fair enough,” he said. “If I hadn’t gone to Internal Affairs about your dad?”

“Did you really have a choice Eddie?” I asked. “I mean, given everything…”

He sighed and looked out over the Charles. 

“Hey,” I said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. “What happened to ‘I’ve got a lot of distance on this thing…’?”

He chuckled again and shook his head. “That memory…”

“Can sometimes be wrong,” I said. “Or at the very least biased.”

“Jordan Cavanaugh admitting she can be wrong?” Eddie teased. “Where’s my recorder when I need it?”

“I already did,” I said, pushing at him playfully. “I told you I understand why you did what you did. And that it was really for the best.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie said, smiling at me for a moment before looking back at the water. 

“If…” I said quietly, “we were going to talk to Dad, remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah… And I was going to…” He swallowed and shook his head.

”I know,” I said, squeezing his hand.

He looked over at me. “You know?” he asked. “How…?”

“I’d gone running to Lois,” I said, shrugging. “Dad came home and told me what was going on. I needed to talk to someone, and he promised me he would be ok. He knew talking to Lo helped me.”

“But I didn’t see your car,” he said. “Or you.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t drive over. I literally ran,” I said. “And then she said I was staying with her, I was too upset – and it was too dark – for me to go back home. She called Dad and he was ok with it. He figured she’d help me. She was rubbing my back to try and help me get to sleep when you knocked on the door. I didn’t mean to listen, but…”

“And you never let on…” he said, amazed.

“Well, when your heart’s already broken, it’s easier to just pile things up so some things stay buried,” I said quietly.

Eddie bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah…” He sighed. “So anyway… That’s usually where I go with the what ifs.”

“You mean if things had been different with Dad and we’d gotten married?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Kind of weird for a guy, I know. But…it is what it is.” 

“Nah,” I said. “I don’t think what ifs are weird for anyone – no matter what shape they take or direction they go.” 

“So you knew,” Eddie said thoughtfully, moving a little closer (but not threateningly). “Do you ever wonder what if?”

“Definitely not at the time,” I said. “Or for a few years. But recently…” Now it was my turn to look out at the water. “You know about J.D. I’m sure.”

“The reporter you were initially accused of murdering?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been doing some therapy, finally decided it was time…”

“Self-evaluation and self-searching can be good,” he said honestly. I knew he was speaking from experience and not just being patronizing, so I didn’t respond to that beyond a nod

“Well, I’ve been doing this…journal thing,” I said. “Looking through my life at all the people who have had a significant role in it. Sort of a mosaic of relationships and events who’ve made me who I am.”

“Sounds both interesting and terrifying,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “I mean, it would be for me to do it, so…”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s been challenging at times. And surprising. Some people I never would have thought would make it into something like that did.”

“I can imagine,” Eddie said. “Sort of like once you’ve opened the door…?”

“Yep,” I said, looking at him before looking back out at the water. “Anyway, I was writing the section on J.D. and his role in my life. When I was at his place in DC, I found a strip of pictures we’d taken in a photo booth one day back before things went… Before I went and screwed the relationship all to hell. And I’ve still got two of them. I look genuinely happy in them.”

“Genuinely happy is good,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “And as I was writing about that, I realized that if I’m totally honest, there’s only one person I’ve ever been with who made me feel like that…”  
There was a moment before our eyes met. I bit my lip and nodded. “You,” I whispered.

“Oh Jor,” Eddie said, reaching up to stroke a thumb across my cheek. “I’m so sorry…”

But he never finished the sentence because almost without realizing it, we’d been moving closer and closer to each other until our lips met.

For a moment we froze, and then as suddenly and simultaneously as our lips met, our arms went around each other and the kiss deepened. It literally felt like time stopped as we kissed, pouring out so much unsaid in that one action.

When we finally broke apart, Eddie stroked my cheek as he looked into my eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said softly. “It killed me…I knew what I needed to do, and I knew what it would cost me. I just…”

I shook my head as I reached up and taking his hand in mine. “You did what you had to,” I said gently. “To keep everybody safe – you, Dad, anyone who worked with you two…” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. “I think even then I knew it was right. I just…”

Eddie nodded and reached his thumb up to gently brush the tears away. “You had to support your Dad,” he said. “I don’t blame you. I’d probably feel the same if the situation had been reversed.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder and wrapped one arm around his waist as he slid an arm around my shoulder. We intertwined our other hands and just sat there for a while, not really needing to speak at the moment – or too lost in our thoughts to say anything. I know mine were racing like a train down a mountain.

“Wow…” I finally said quietly.

Eddie chuckled and lightly brushed his lips over the top of my head. “Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow’?”

“I think good,” I said, my mind still whirling.

He nodded. “What you said earlier? About only one other person?”

“Yeah?”

“Me too,” he said. “I’ve tried making other relationships work, but nothing ever did. I could never put my finger on it… And then you came back from wherever you’d been…”

“Los Angeles,” I said. “By way of Chicago, Atlanta, and Denver.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Do I want to know?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I’m a Cavanaugh?” I half asked with a shrug.

“That you are,” he said, shaking his head, but smiling. “When you showed up at the scene that day, pushing and shoving your way into my case… That was the first time in four years things felt normal again.”

I bit my lip and looked up at him. “Really?”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “Yeah. Even after… Not seeing you around, it just felt weird. It felt like something was missing.”

“I’m sorry…” I whispered.

Eddie shook his head. “Shh… Don’t…”

I reached up and stroked his face. “Are we crazy?” I asked quietly.

“For considering…” he stopped. “Are you saying you want to… To try again?”

I nodded, not even pausing to think. “Do you?”

“As much as I’d always thought it was crazy to say there’s just one person out there,” he paused and stroked my cheek. “There hasn’t been anyone else like you in my life since you. It sounds stupidly cliché, but no one else ever fit in my life, in my heart like you.”

I bit my lip and looked up at him for a long moment.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do want to try again Jor.”

“Me too,” I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. And… 

Remember what I said before that Laura Bennett - the woman who had faked her own death - had said? That thing I’d tested J.D. with? How you know it’s love “when you see yourself reflected, really reflected in the other person’s eyes, and you know it’s the same for them”?

Eddie passed.

We took things kind of slow. Meaning that we didn’t make love that night. We slept together, but that was just sleeping after lots of kissing and cuddling. I think we both wanted to make sure that everything was really real and we weren’t just reacting.

When we did make love, that really just cemented everything. It honestly was like no time had gone by – we each remembered what the other liked and everything felt so right. We just fit.

We did do one thing differently this time. After we’d been back together for a couple of months – we wanted to make sure before…


	29. Learning the truth...

I reached for the phone at my desk and dialed Dad’s number.

“Hello?” 

I couldn’t help but smile when I heard his voice. “Hey Dad!”

“Jordan,” he said, I could hear the smile in his voice too. We really were working on getting our relationship straightened out, and clearly progress was being made. “How are you baby?”

“I’m good Dad,” I said. “Work’s going ok.”

“That’s good,” he said. “I was going to call you later on. I… I thought it would be good for us to get together for dinner or something. There’s some stuff I think it’s time I told you…”

Um, what? “Oh?” I asked. Did he know? Had someone told him…?

“It’s ultimately…good,” he said.

“Ok…” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Actually, I was calling to see if you wanted to get together for dinner.”

“I’d love to baby,” Dad said. “Does tomorrow night work?”

“Yeah,” I said. That was one of the nights Eddie and I had discussed. “Um, Dad? Is it ok if I bring someone with me?”

“Someone…?”

I took a deep breath. Might as well get it out in the open over the phone – less chance of needing an ambulance that way I hoped. “Dad?” I started. “Um…I’ve been…dating Eddie.” Then the words just rushed out. “I know…I know. But…I can’t explain it… We just…”

“So you’ve decided to tell me this time?” Dad asked, laughing gently.

“I mean, we didn’t…” I paused. “Wait a minute. This time?”

“Jordan, I wasn’t a detective for nothing,” Dad said, teasing me. 

“You knew?” I asked, still not quite believing this.

“I suspected,” Dad said. “And then after… I could tell it was more than just me having to retire that was bothering you.”

“Oh…” I said.

“Jordan?”

“Yeah Dad?”

“Does he make you happy?”

I couldn’t help but smile as I looked over at the picture of us we’d snapped having a picnic in the Commons one day. “He does Dad,” I said. “And I really love him.”

“Then I have nothing to complain about baby,” Dad said. “What happened with Internal Affairs needed to happen. I never honestly blamed Eddie for that. My anger at him was based on his having hurt you. Even if I didn’t know for sure you two were together, his actions hurt you as a friend even. That’s what made me mad.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about him hurting me again,” I said softly.

“Good,” Dad said. “So tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Does 7 at Rabia’s work? And…it’s ok for Eddie to come?”

“Sounds perfect baby,” Dad said. “And yes, Eddie is more than welcome to come. It…it’ll be good for you to have someone there.”

“You’re not having a cancer scare again are you?” I asked, starting to panic. We were just getting our relationship back to where it was, maybe even better. I was not ready for him to…

“No baby,” Dad said gently. “I promise you. No medical crisis.”

“Ok, we’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you too baby,” Dad said before we hung up.

I sat there for a moment, taking in everything that had just happened. Dad had suspected before? And he was ok with it? I mean, it seemed like it. I would have thought he would have gone after any cop who dared to try and go out with me given the whole rumored “hands off” memo. Still…

I shook my head and picked up the phone, dialing Eddie’s cell.

“Hey babe,” he said when he answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice which just made me smile.

“Hey you,” I said. “So I just talked to Dad. Tomorrow at Rabia’s at 7.”

“Both of us?” he asked. “You did tell him…”

“I did, and he’s fine with it,” I said. “Apparently he was then too…”

“He… What?”

“Apparently he suspected,” I said. “When I told him we’re dating he said ‘So you decided to tell me this time?’”

“Well…?” I could hear the unspoken question in Eddie’s voice.

“As long as you don’t plan on hurting me you should be fine,” I said, smiling.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because I have no intention of hurting you.”

“Perfect!” I said, laughing. “So… I’m not sure what tomorrow’s going to bring, but…”

“But what?” Eddie asked. “I thought he was cool with us.”

“Not about us,” I said. “He said he was going to call me anyway. That there was some stuff he wanted to talk about.”

“Oh…”

“He’s assured me that it’s nothing health-related,” I said. “So I have no idea. But he did say he was glad I’d have someone there.”

“You know I’m here for you no matter what,” Eddie said. “And I for sure will be tomorrow night.”

“Thanks babe,” I said. I saw Garret motioning for me in the hall. “I need to go. See you later?”

“You got it baby,” Eddie said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, ignoring the fact that Garret had now poked his head in my office. It’s not like he didn’t know – Eddie had met me for lunch or after work enough times. “Be safe.”

The next night, we got ready and headed to the North Side, deciding to take a cab rather than deal with parking. I didn’t notice I was jiggling my leg until I felt Eddie’s hand on it.

“It’s gonna be ok baby,” he said, pulling me close and kissing my temple. “Whatever he wants to tell you, it’ll be ok.”

I nodded and leaned my head on his shoulder as the cab made its way through the late rush hour traffic. Soon, we pulled up outside the restaurant. Dad was waiting by the door, so Eddie paid the driver while I got out and went over to him.

“Hey Dad,” I said, hugging him and reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dad said, kissing my forehead. He nodded as Eddie approached. “Eddie,” he said, extending his hand.

“Good to see you Max,” Eddie said, shaking his hand. He motioned to the restaurant’s door. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Dad nodded as we walked in together.

We were seated right away and ordered a bottle of wine, some salads, and our entrees. We chatted while waiting on the salads, trying to keep things light.

Once the salads were at the table though, I couldn’t wait any longer. I looked at Dad and took a deep breath. “So…” I started. “You said you had something to talk about?”

Dad looked at his plate for a long moment before looking up at me and nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s…”

“Dad? Just tell me,” I said softly. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” 

I could feel Eddie’s hand on my leg, and I slid my free hand into his, looking over at Dad as something occurred to me.

“It’s about Mom, isn’t it?” I asked.

Dad nodded. “It is, baby,” he said. 

I could feel panic starting to rise and squeezed Eddie’s hand harder. “Dad? Please don’t tell me that you…”

“No!” he said firmly – but keeping his voice low so we wouldn’t attract any extra attention. “Jordan, no. I didn’t. But I do know what happened.”

I looked from Dad to Eddie and back again. What did that mean? “What happened?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice low and calm. “Besides her being killed? What else…?”  
Suddenly something occurred to me – or, if I’m being totally honest (which I guess I should be in this thing) came to the surface of my thoughts. A memory from catechism class coupled with something that I guess had always been in the back of my head. I looked at the table, biting my lip and fighting to keep the tears I could feel behind my eyes at bay.

“Daddy?” I asked softly, looking across the table into my dad’s own tear-filled eyes. “She… She…”

Dad reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I couldn’t tell anyone, baby. Your mother…she didn’t want you to have to grow up with that stigma. I mean, I know that official dogma had changed by that point but still…”

“You knew she was going to?” I whispered.

Dad sighed. “After she was in the hospital…I knew it was a possibility,” he said. “We had talked about it – about how she had thought about it and continued to think about it - while she was there. She didn’t want to – but she was afraid she wasn’t strong enough. She was clear though that if…she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want you growing up with that stigma, and she’d have to be buried in consecrated ground which meant… I tried every way I could to help her. But in the end, her disease was just too strong.”

I felt Eddie slide closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder even as I felt tears begin to stream from my eyes. “It’s my fault,” I choked out.

“Jordan, no!” Dad said, reaching across the table for my free hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t yelled at her that morning…” I said. “If I’d hugged her back. If I’d told her I loved her…”

Dad shook his head and squeezed my hand. “Jordan, I knew something was wrong even before that morning,” he said. “Emily knew you loved her, no matter what happened that morning.”

“But I didn’t help her,” I said.

“Baby, you helped her so much,” Dad said, his voice raspy with emotion. “She wanted so badly to be whole and healthy for you. If anything she held on as long as she did because of you. That day…things were set in motion the night before at the very latest.”

“When James visited?” I asked.

Dad nodded. “She told me he had come…but she thought he was a ghost,” he said. “She honestly thought she had drowned him when he was an infant. And then when he came to the house…”

“Did you tell her?” I asked. “That he was alive?”

“I tried to baby,” Dad said. “But she didn’t believe me.”

“Why didn’t you take her back to Summit View?” I asked. “Or somewhere else? Why didn’t you take her to get her help?”

“She wouldn’t go Jordan,” he said. “I tried. She refused to go, and I knew that calling your grandmother wouldn’t do any good.”

I just looked at him, unsure of what to say.

“After I walked you to school, I went back to the house,” Dad said. “I didn’t want to force her against her will, and I thought maybe I could talk her into going somewhere for help. But it was too late.”

“She was dead that early?” I asked.

Dad nodded, fresh tears falling. “She’d written a note asking me to make it look like a murder,” he said. “She knew I could do enough to open an investigation – but hopefully not enough to get me convicted.”

“So…?” I was dumbfounded, unsure of even what to ask.

“I did what I could to make it look like a forced entry and murder,” he said. “Then I walked to the precinct, stopping in the park to burn the note and make sure the ashes dropped into the pond. I left for lunch early saying I needed to get home to check on her, that she hadn’t been feeling well. And then I called it in.”

He leaned across the table and took my cheeks in his hands, looking into my eyes. “Jordan, she loved you so much,” he said. “She never wanted you to know – not until you could handle it.”  
“How the hell am I supposed to handle THAT?” I said, pulling back from his hands and pulling my hand out of Eddie’s. I just needed to get out of there. I pushed my chair back and stood up. “I mean…how?”

And I bolted out of the restaurant, running blindly down the sidewalk to the walkway along the waterfront, only stopping at the railing where I stood, clinging to the rail for dear life, choking on my sobs.

“Jordan!” I heard Eddie’s voice behind me and felt his arms go around my shoulders as I gagged and leaned over the rail, losing everything that was in my stomach. “I’ve got you baby,” he whispered, pulling my hair back from my face. “I’ve got you.”

Once I’d stopped gagging, he walked me over to one of the benches and sat down, pulling me into his lap, murmuring to me softly. He looked up kissed my temple as Dad approached. “You ok?” he whispered.

I nodded, then motioned for Dad to sit down – but made no move to slide off of Eddie’s lap. I needed the solidity of him, of us right then as it felt like the rest of my world was spinning out of control.

“I’m sorry I made a scene,” I said, my voice raspy from crying and gagging.

Dad shook his head. “No, Jordan. Don’t… I’m so sorry baby,” he said, laying a hand on my knee. “I thought now was time…”

I drew in a shaky breath. “No, you’re right,” I said. “I needed to know. I just… It’s just…”

“A little more real than you thought?” Eddie asked softly, rubbing my back.

“Did you know?” I asked, looking at him. I didn’t think I could take any more tonight, and if he had known…

Eddie shook his head. “No,” he said. “I didn’t. I had my suspicions – I’ll admit I’d looked at the files after I got injured and was put on cold case duty. I wondered if… But I didn’t know the mental history, so I felt like it was reaching.”

Dad nodded. “The fact that no one other than myself, her doctors, and her mother even though she was in denial knew made it much easier to make it look like a murder. James’ fingerprint being there unbeknownst to me just helped.”

“But you could have gone away forever,” I said. “You could have left me too.”

Dad reached for my hands, taking both of mine in one of his and squeezing them. “I know baby,” he said. “And that fact almost killed me. I almost broke and told them the truth just so I could get back to you.”

“But if you’d burned the note…” I said, confused.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I had this,” he said, looking at it. “She wrote you a note too.”

I just stared at him.

“Jordan, I wanted to give it to you earlier,” Dad said. “Believe me baby. I wanted to. But it would not have been unheard of for the Church to demand the body be moved if they had known. I didn’t know what you’d do.” He looked at the envelope. ‘I’m sorry baby,” he said.

“She wrote it that morning?” I asked, not sure I wanted to take the letter yet.

Dad shook his head. “She wrote it earlier,” he said. “I think when she felt like she was slipping again after Summit View. She showed it to me so I’d know where it was just in case.”

“Oh,” I said. So I’d never really know that what happened that morning hadn’t triggered anything.

“She did add a post-script that morning,” Dad said as if reading my mind. “When I went to the bedroom to get it and hide it before I called her ‘murder’ in, it was sitting on the dresser. I saw that she’d added something, then I put it back in the envelope and taped it up.”

I looked between his face and the envelope in his hand several times before reaching out and taking it. “I don’t know if I can read it right now,” I said. I held it for a moment before handing it to Eddie to put in his pocket.

Dad nodded. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

He sighed heavily and looked out over the water. “I’m sorry I ruined what should have been a happy night,” he said.

I shook my head and slid off Eddie’s lap, scooting next to Dad and wrapping my arms around his waist. “No,” I said. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re sure?” Dad asked, looking down into my face.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Even if I freaked out, I’m glad you told me.” I reached up to kiss his cheek.

I could feel Eddie rubbing my arm gently. “Do you want to stay here a little longer or…?” His voice was so soft, so gentle.

“Let’s go home,” I said, revealing that for all intents and purposes we were living together.

We all stood up and walked back towards the street. I’m sure it confused anyone who saw us since Eddie’s arm was around my shoulder and one of mine was around his waist with my other hand in Dad’s. Eddie called for a cab while Dad unlocked his car. 

I reached up and hugged Dad tightly. “I love you,” I said. “Thank you for telling me.”

Dad hugged me back equally tightly. “I love you baby,” he said, kissing my cheek. “If you want to talk about it more…”

I nodded. “Yeah… Thanks.” I kissed his cheek and rested my head against his chest until our cab pulled up. I kissed him again, told him to be safe, and got in the cab.

Eddie shook Dad’s hand. “I’ll take care of her,” he said softly.

Dad nodded. “Hold her as long as she’ll let you,” he said. “And then hold her longer.”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “We’ll see you soon,” he said before getting in the cab as Dad got in his car.

When we got to my loft, I collapsed onto the sofa, utterly worn out emotionally. Eddie locked the door behind us and came over, gathering me up in his arms.

“I don’t even know what to feel,” I said, snuggling more deeply into his arms, needing the reality his touch provided to ground me.

He sighed and kissed my forehead gently. “I don’t think you need to know,” he said. “Honestly I’m not sure I know how to feel myself,” he added, a hint of guilt in his voice.

I looked up at him questioningly, not understanding the guilt I heard.

“When you hurt, I hurt,” he said, kissing me softly.

I nodded and kissed him back for a few moments before pulling back. “Eddie, I can’t tonight…” I said. 

He shook his head. “We don’t have to,” he said. “Can I at least hold you?”

I smiled and nodded. “I’d like that,” I said, nuzzling his neck as he picked me up and carried me to the bed. He set me down gently, then tossed me a tank top and pajama shorts while he changed into some sleep pants.

He settled me under the covers and then went to double check the door and turn out the lights.

“Eddie?” I called.

“Yeah?” he asked from the living room area.

“Can you bring the letter?” I asked.

“Of course baby,” he said. I heard him walk to the hooks where our jackets were and get the envelope before coming into the bedroom alcove and sliding into bed, wrapping one arm around me and holding up the envelope with his other hand.

I snuggled into his side before starting to reach for the envelope, then stopping. “Can… Will you…?”

He moved slightly so he could look in my eyes. “You want me to read it?” he asked.

I nodded. “Out loud.”

He chuckled. “I figured that much,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice. He kissed me softly. “You’re sure?”

I drew in a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest.

“Ok,” he said. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer into his side. He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. I saw him scan it briefly before he started reading.

“All of it,” I said. “No matter what.”

“Of course baby,” he said. He took a breath and started to read…

"'My darling baby girl,

Jordan, I love you so much. I wish I could fight this darkness, that I could be strong for you. But I can’t. It’s too strong. 

Baby, please don’t blame yourself for this. You’ve been more than I could have ever hoped for. Your little hand in mine, the pictures you colored for me, the cinnamon toast you made me…

Don’t remember the bad times baby. Don’t dwell on those. Remember the happy times – like the Christmas snow. The camping trip. Hold onto the light, Jordan. Hold onto your father. He’s going to need you as much as you’re going to need him.

I’m sorry I won’t get to see you grow up, to see the amazing person I know you’re going to become. I want to hold on, to fight…but I’m too weak.

Please baby, don’t hate me for what I’ve done. Know that if there was any way…but nothing works. I can’t…

I love you Jordan. So much. Your love has helped me hold on this long. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.

Always,  
Mama'"

Eddie took a deep breath and pulled me tighter, then said “There’s more…”

I nodded, not able to speak through my tears. If my love was what helped her hold on…

Eddie kissed my head, then continued.

"Jor, baby, I’m writing this after our fight over the shoes. Please don’t blame yourself. I know you love me – I was a little girl once, and I remember fighting with my mother just like we did. What happened is not why I’m doing this. Believe me baby. I love you always and forever."

Eddie folded the letter back into the envelope and set it on the bedside table before rolling over and wrapping me tightly in his arms, holding me and stroking my hair and back as I cried. “Just cry baby,” he whispered. “I’ve got you Jor. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

It felt like hours had gone by when I finally felt cried out – at least for the moment – I looked up at Eddie. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“For what?” he asked, stroking my cheek.

“Being here,” I said. “Loving me.” I smiled and reached up to kiss him softly. “For not giving up on me…on us.”

He smiled softly. “I could say the same thing,” he said, softly returning my kiss. “You ok?”

I sighed and shrugged. “Kind of sort of?” I half asked. “Not totally. But even though the truth sucks, I’m glad I know.” I looked up at him. “Does that make sense?”

He nodded and stroked my hair. “Yeah,” he said. “It does.” Then he added with a grin “For you.”

“Hey,” I said, pulling away from him slightly. “What does that mean?”

He chuckled and pulled me back into his side, kissing me softly. “That you’re you. And I love you no matter what.”

“I love you too,” I murmured against his lips before kissing him and settling in to try and get some sleep.


	30. In closing...

So… That’s where I think this little adventure into my life should end. At least for now. You’re pretty much brought up to date.

I’m glad I know the truth about Mom. It doesn’t make her not being here any easier, but at least I have answers. And no, I haven’t told anyone else the truth. I know things are a little different now, but there’s no way I’m going to take the risk of having Mom relocated from her final resting place.

And yes, Eddie and I are actually still together. And happy.

Oh. And that ring? Yeah…I finally know what it looks like on my hand. And it’s gorgeous.

THE END


End file.
